


From The Desk Of...

by BridgetteIrish, fictorium



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Co-Written, Correspondence, Epistolary, F/F, Femslash, Letters, Mentor/Protégé, Pen Pals, Secrets, Slow Burn, Superletters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2018-09-18 09:32:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 79
Words: 29,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9378605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BridgetteIrish/pseuds/BridgetteIrish, https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictorium/pseuds/fictorium
Summary: Kara finds herself missing her former boss, and puts pen to paper. Exceeding Kara's wildest hopes, Cat writes back. So begins a correspondence that lets a lot of unaddressed issues be talked out.Does absence make the heart grow fonder? (Yes, yes it does.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Massive thanks to reginalovesemma, xxtorchxx, kara-lesbihonest, rtarara, abcooper, spaceshipsarecool, writerstealth, inspectorboxer, octoplods and everyone else who let us bounce the storylines for this off them.

Dear Miss Grant,

I thought I’d send you my very first byline.

It isn’t much, just a nuts and bolts report on the recent shark attacks near National City, but it’s mine, and I fought for it, just like you said I should.

Snapper edited it to within an inch of its life and he still won’t give me a chair.

Luckily, I have that quiet little office you gave me. He must not know about it.

I know you can read this online, but you told me once how much you like the smell of newsprint, so I cut it out of one of the three dozen copies I bought.

I cleaned out four separate newsstands.

I miss you, Miss Grant. So many days I need advice or Snapper’s yelling at me or I start feeling out of place, and wish you were just a couple of floors away (or just down the hall if I’m in my secret office).

I hope you’re finding what you’re looking for. The world isn’t ready for you.

Don’t be a stranger.

P.S. Okay, so I enclosed two copies. One is autographed… just in case.


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Kara,

How formal. Anyone would think you didn’t blub all over me before I left.

Snapper missed a split infinitive on line 4. Don’t tell him now, but consider it my gift to you next time he calls you a threat to the English language. If you can sabotage his email to stop Bcc-ing me on every tirade, that would be your first act of public service as a reporter.

There’s one thing missing from your letter: how did it feel?

You seem so concerned with buying every copy in circulation, but I’m holding your article in my hand (yes, newsprint is an intoxicating scent, but laminate for God’s sake) and wondering if you got that high? What next for Kara Danvers, shark expert?

Stick to the facts and leave out adjectives in your articles. I can see you’ve picked that up already. Leave them wanting more, Kara. But I am not ‘them’ and I demand the full story, always. Elaborate next time.

As for finding what I’m looking for? Well I’m looking. The time with Carter has been a gift, and next week I’m in Opal City with Adam.

Don’t get sentimental on me now. You should be much too busy for that. But since you mention it, there are occasional moments when I miss being irritated by your presence.

I don’t have to be in the same building to be available to you, Kara.

PS: Guard that office with your life. I can’t allocate you another one if Snapper takes it away.


	3. Chapter 3

Dear Miss Grant,

I thought you’d appreciate a little formality in my correspondence, rather than my usual incoherent babbling that “sets your teeth on edge,” I believe you put it once. No? Okay then. Full Sunny Danvers it is. I will remind you (gently) that you asked for the whole story, adjectives and all.

How did it feel? Seeing my name in print, seeing something I created, a story that I got to tell, be put out there for the world to see?

Oh, Miss Grant… It felt like I might fly right out of my shoes (which is ridiculous because, of course, I can’t fly). It felt like a hundred fireworks went off inside my chest. It felt like every tiny piece of me that had ever seemed fractured or scattered or stretched all came home all at once. My heart raced, my head tingled. It felt like someone filled me full of happy bees. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kiss someone or cry.

Does it always feel like this?

You joke about me being a shark expert, but I actually do have a couple of follow-ups planned about the effect on the surfing culture and how local beachside businesses struggle with the bad publicity. You could say Newport Beach is my new “beat.” And word on the street is your beloved Supergirl is afraid of sharks.

Because you asked so nicely, I snuck Winn into CatCo and had him hack Snapper’s email preferences and disable his bcc functionality. I’d say it’s only a temporary fix, but Snapper has particular disdain for all technology and will likely never figure out how to restore it. I’m keeping a list of potential blackmail on him. I think it would make you proud.

Say ‘hi’ to Adam for me, or maybe that’s a bad idea. Oh, and tell Carter I caught a Dratini on my last hike. He’ll know what it means.

If I tell you James has completely redecorated your office and covered it in Metropolis Meteors memorabilia, would you come back sooner? I know, I know, you’re still available to me… but it isn’t the same.

I promise to be extra irritating the next time I see you.

Travel safe,

P.S. I didn’t blub… and I promised I’d pay to have that jacket dry-cleaned.


	4. Chapter 4

Miss Danvers,

While I didn’t expect to be notified of your every shared byline or chance to edit an obituary below the fold, I did expect these little notes of yours would share all relevant information.

Such as Kara Danvers, cub reporter, landing Supergirl herself as a source. The same Supergirl who can only grudgingly be summoned by James Olsen with his very muscled arm twisted up his back. The same Supergirl you apparently only met under my direction all those months ago.

How interesting, Kara.

How very, very interesting.

I did have a message from Carter about this Martini thing you caught, but I find my mood isn’t much inclined towards sharing. I seem to only remember the part where he said “oh my God, tell Kara she sucks”. So there you go. Your name didn’t come up when I saw Adam.

As you know, I much prefer to quote myself whenever possible, but just this once I’ll defer to Walter Lippman.

_“There can be no higher law in journalism than to tell the truth”._

For what it’s worth, I consider that the highest law of friendship, too.

I may be out of reach for a while. I’m sure you’ll adjust. 


	5. Chapter 5

Miss Grant,

Congratulations. If your intention was to hurt me, you succeeded admirably. You were always so very good at it. 

I can see you are as consistent with your mentorship as with your rapier wit.

_“Dive, Kara”_

_“Own your power, Kara”_

_“You’ll rise to the occasion, Kara”_

But the second I take your advice, try to wrangle some independence from the grips of my own fear, it isn’t enough or it’s too much or it’s the wrong direction.

Maybe if I was able to learn this job from you and not your testosterone toady, you may have more access to my successes and failures. But I am here, every day, trying to make you proud.

You want truth, Cat? Here it is. You don’t need me to tell you things you already know. What you’re asking for is for the both of us to stop pretending and saying things we don’t mean. And judging by your letter you aren’t quite ready for that.

I have my own Walter to quote.

 

_“A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out.”_ – Walter Winchell

 

Supergirl was there for me when I needed her. She misses you too, by the way. You should know I’m also making other new friends. 

Jealousy is beneath you, Cat. And so is taking yourself away because you’re mad at me. But I’ve survived a lot. I’ll survive this too.

I’ll miss your letters. I had hoped to hear about your adventures. We’ve only talked about mine so far.

You know where to find me.


	6. Chapter 6

Kara,

If any other living soul sees this letter I’ll have it proven a forgery and run you out of National City myself, so consider yourself warned:

You may be right. Maybe. Or at least have something approaching a point.

In my hurry to leave, to begin something new, I may have overlooked what was right in front of me. It’s possible I didn’t consider what sudden and unexpected departure might look like to someone who has been through… what you’ve been through.

My therapist would call it an abandonment complex, but she also said that about that situation with Carter’s hamster, so take that with a large grain of salt.

One thing I did not do lightly was hand over your journalistic education to He Who Must Not Be Shaved. While I have conquered every field I’ve worked in, print journalism is only one string to my considerable bow. To learn every possible skill, every nuance and corner of a career, you need to learn from someone who lives and breathes it. Who loves it for the sake of it, and not for how it fits into an empire.

Cat Grant expects only the best. And the very best is my gift to you, and to your future career.

I’d like to hear more about these new friends of yours. I hope you’re making good choices, Kara. Not every powerful woman is worthy of friendship. Not every CEO is a willing mentor. Something to consider.

I’ll be in Metropolis this week. I wonder if Supergirl might find time to visit her cousin? You should ask her when she next pops by for potstickers and a first person exclusive.


	7. Chapter 7

Dear Miss Grant,

I’d burn your letter to maintain your reputation for never being wrong, but you suggested I embrace lamination, so it is well-preserved.

I see I have earned my name back. I’ll do my best to keep it this time.

If you think you are the first to suggest I might have abandonment issues, well, you should have coffee with my foster mother. She has opinions. But it is possible I may have been pushing a bit too hard for your return. I’ll do my best to curb both my guilt-tripping and my passive aggression.

The good news (see what I did there?) is that Mr. Carr really is teaching me a lot. He’s passionate and tenacious and he pushes. I spend much of my time angry at him, which as you know, usually means he is right and I know I’m getting better. He’s a lot like you, actually, though I maintain his criticism would be more well-received if he wore more couture and flawless makeup, and if he smelled like your custom Dior rather than pine woods car freshener and cinnamon gum. Still, James lets me use your balcony to write when I need air and a view.

I accept your gift, and give you one of my own. Enclosed is a bit of dirt or blackmail on a number of prominent businessmen and public servants seen by my newest informant, engaging in illegal activity this past weekend. Snapper informed me we can’t print this information… yet… but if you find use for it, it’s yours. Don’t worry. He gave me permission. He seems to think he owes you something.

It seems you have me at a disadvantage. You’ve got spies, apparently. How else could you suss out the identity of my new friend with no clues and no disclosures on my part? You’ll be pleased to know there is very little mentorship in our budding friendship. There is no replacement for you, Cat. But she is charming and sophisticated and for undetermined reasons, interested in knowing me better. Maybe I can’t trust her. But she’s asked me for a chance and everyone seeking to do better deserves a chance. You taught me that.

You still haven’t told me what it is you’re up to. But never mind. Keep your mystery, if you must, Miss Grant.

Fondly, 


	8. Chapter 8

Miss Grant,

You failed to warn me that hangovers are excruciating torture. I blame you entirely for the cymbals crashing in my head and the vertigo. It is a mentor’s job to warn about such things, no?

The being drunk part was fun, though, what I can remember of it.

I woke up with my face on my phone and a string of text messages to my old Art History professor, causing me to check my text and call history this morning.

Consider this my apology for whatever rambling, incoherent nonsense I may have said on the apparent three-minute phone call at 11:43 pm that night. I don’t remember if we spoke or if I left a voicemail. I’m sincerely hoping I merely butt-dialed you and carried you in my pocket for a few blocks.

I met… someone from my old life, from before I lost my family and he’s proven to be a handful. He brings out the worst in me and I’m sorry you were collateral damage.

Things continue to change too rapidly for me to keep up.

Alex is… pursuing new interests, James is distracted and moody, Snapper has me permanently enrolled in the school of hard knocks and I still just feel… floaty.

I dove, Miss Grant, like you told me to, but what if the water was too shallow, and all I did was hit my head on the bottom? It sure felt like it a few mornings ago.

Where are you, Miss Grant? I still wish I knew.

Wherever it is, I hope your water is deep and clear. 


	9. Chapter 9

Kara,

How wise, in your time of recently-sozzled need, to reach out to the Queen of All Hangovers.

I’m fairly sure I did warn you about them. Or didn’t you see the death grip every time you handed me Advil and perfectly chilled water? I know for a fact that HR had some kind of system alert sent out every time my hungover moods got a little… difficult, so I hardly think you were exempt from that.

Tell me you’re not taking in street urchins. Your life is already too close to a Disney musical for comfort. While I haven’t been immune to the charms of a bad boy (or girl) now and then, you have your career to think of. Do you think Snapper will get any easier on you if you show up for work smelling like a brewery and recoiling from the light like a low-budget network take on Dracula?

What, pray tell, is James distracted by? I would think being handed a company to run ten years before he’s ready for it would be distraction enough. I’d wonder if that caused the share price wobble last week, but I think we all know the root cause of that.

I was about to tell you off for this directionless self-pity. I’m many things, Kara, but I’m not a hypocrite. The reason I haven’t been regaling you with tales of my exploits is a simple one: I’m not sure what to say.

Like you, I thought making the decision to choose a new path would be direction enough. The first step would lead to a second, and all would become clear. I’ve been in Metropolis, in Washington, even Opal City which you know I can’t stand. I’ve been to my favorite haunts in London, Paris, Hong Kong, Milan; even Miami in a brief fit of madness. I hoped old stomping grounds and old connections might nudge me towards something new.

Instead I’m accepting invitations and drinking a lot of martinis at a lot of lunches, racking up air miles and trying to turn it all into an adventure for Carter, whenever he can get out of school to come with me.

Does that disappoint you Kara? To know that I don’t have all the answers after all. I should tell you that everything’s fine and my plans are secret, but I think the time for well-intentioned lies is behind us, don’t you agree?

It was a shame not to see Supergirl in Metropolis. That would have been a highlight on that particular trip.

Dive again, Kara.

You have to learn how to hold your breath down there before bringing back a pearl.


	10. Chapter 10

Dear Miss Grant,

Directionless self-pity. Yes, I suppose it is too much to ask for some kindness with my life-lessons. But between you and Snapper and your constant need to remind me that life isn’t fair, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by the ‘inadequacies first, comfort later’ approach. The more things change… right?

I fight, all the time, so I can fight through this too, with a smile on my face and a skip in my step. That’s how you see me, after all, a Disney Princess with a bluebird on my shoulder, a song in my heart and a shadow in my wake. That ‘street urchin’ needed me, or so I thought, but don’t worry. His charms are of no interest to me and I am fully focused on being the entitled upstart Snapper believes me to be.

I’ll hold my breath until I’m dizzy if it means feeling like I’m actually getting somewhere.

James is doing a fine job in your stead, as far as I can tell. He’s becoming decisive and he’s taking ownership of his choices. He even yelled at Snapper. But he seems unmoored too. He doesn’t talk to me much anymore and I get the feeling he’s hiding something. But we’re all entitled to secrets, aren’t we?

For the record, I could never be disappointed in you, Miss Grant. If anything, I find your search for answers you may not have as inspiring as the drive you exhibit when you know exactly what you want. I’m… proud of you, odd as it may be to hear that from me.

Supergirl is very busy. Things in National City have gone a bit alien since you left. I’m sure she wishes she could have made the trip. Have patience with her. Courage in one thing does not necessarily translate to fearlessness in another.

You are missed.

Kindly,

P.S. I’m having disturbing flashbacks of my drunk phone shenanigans. I only hope they are hallucinations and not memories.


	11. Chapter 11

Kara,

This new habit of standing up to me is intriguing. You’re no Disney princess. A Disney heroine, perhaps. I was waiting for your next byline to comment on, but it seems I’ve been waiting in vain.

Distracted, are we? A little busy with extracurricular activity? It’s almost as if you vanished off the very face of the earth.

Not that you could, of course.

I find myself almost missing that sunny disposition this week. As wonderful as all this time with Carter has been, the disruption to his routine has gone on long enough. Educational trips and the best available tutors won’t make up for the one school he genuinely feels he belongs in. With great reluctance, I let his father bring him back to National City yesterday.

What’s stopping me from returning with him? You see, I still anticipate your obvious line of questioning. Perhaps Snapper could teach you some incisiveness, if you ever get some actual reporting done. You’d better not be covering for the increasingly elusive James Olsen and neglecting your own career progression.

Anyway, I haven’t changed the world yet, Kara. I’ve taken meetings and listened to proposals and dear God, I actually subjected myself to lunch with Lois. If that’s not desperation, I don’t know what is. Your friend Clark sends his regards. I mentioned that we’ve been keeping in touch. Mostly a weak attempt to make Lois jealous, but apparently she’s as fond of you as he is. How annoying.

I have one promising meeting tomorrow. I can’t tell you about it, of course, though I believe we have mutual friends in common. If I see your name in the magazine or on the site, I’ll be sure to fill you in. Is that incentive enough to get you focused?


	12. Chapter 12

Dear Miss Grant,

Do you believe in the multi-verse? Parallel universes? Alternate timelines?

I had my own visit with an old friend this week and he got me thinking about how every choice we make affects every person we touch or see or care about. 

Can you imagine that there might be countless worlds out there with different versions of each of us. A world where I’m still your assistant. A world where I was never your assistant. A world where we never met, or haven’t met yet, or met… years ago…

A world (and I know I’m approaching blasphemy here) where there is no CatCo? Or no Supergirl?

What were the choices you made and the choices I made and all of the choices made around us that got us right here, right now? So many choices made… or not made…

If everything was set back to zero… and you could choose anything in the world, what would it be, Miss Grant? With infinite pathways laid out in front of you, what would you become?

Sorry, this must all sound completely out-of-the-blue. I guess you could say I’ve seen some of the consequences of the choices people make and it’s made me evaluate my place in this world… and maybe in some other worlds too.

We’ve made millions of tiny choices in our lives. And for whatever it’s worth, I’m really glad all of mine brought me to you.

Okay, enough with the philosophical sap. The article you request is forthcoming. It’s right up your alley, Miss Grant. An alien virus, the fall of an evil organization, subterfuge and science and redemption. Snapper has my fourth draft on his desk. Maybe this one will come back with more black than red on the page.

Give Lois a hug for me. It’s been too long.

Fondly,


	13. Chapter 13

Kara Danvers,

If you were still my assistant I’d have you book me an appointment with the finest neurologist money can buy. Perhaps that skilled and expensive doctor could explain what kind of stroke I just had on reading that a) you are on hugging terms with my arch-nemesis and b) you expect me to similarly degrade myself by initiating contact with that succubus.

As Desi would have it: you’ve got some ‘splaining to do, Kara.

Aside from this unexpected betrayal - and don’t think I won’t be mining this buddyship of yours for dirt on Lois - your wander into philosophy has been surprisingly useful.

I realized, with a gentle nudge from your rambling thoughts, that I’ve been hemmed in by my own success. I’m not sure how to explain it in a way that other people would understand, but I suspect you might. Sometimes you let yourself become the symbol, the brand, and forget how to be the person behind it. Cat Grant is the stuff of legends, and that makes a misstep or wrong choice heavy with more consequences than the average person.

It makes me wary of certain arenas - new challenges where the glare of public scrutiny is fierce. Then I remembered how Supergirl won back National City (under my guidance) and it puts things in perspective.

I’ll have big news, soon. Are you ready for your exclusive, scoop?


	14. Chapter 14

Dear Miss Grant,

If only the rest of the world knew how easy it was to ruffle your feathers. One mention of ‘The Perpetual Damsel’ and you’re questioning the fortitude of that brilliant mind.

Fear not, Miss Grant. I believe you know where my ultimate loyalties lie and I won’t tell anyone that I have been quite successfully messing with you.

You should know… your brand, your symbol, your legend remains firmly ensconced in the walls of this building and it is the person behind all of that ready to take that leap. I hope you’re able to find a way to dive unencumbered, success and consequences be damned.

I’m honored you would give me your story. I’m dying of curiosity. My pen is at the ready.

Yours (not Lois’s)


	15. Chapter 15

Kara,

If you’re mine, if you belong to me with all the fierce loyalty you claim: isn’t it time you called me by my name?

This scoop I’m giving you is one to be shared between friends. No other journalist will hear even a whisper before it’s announced in three days.

Can you keep a secret, Kara?

I’ve been meeting with the President. Olivia has become something of a personal friend, even if she’s a little more obsessed with Supergirl than is seemly for a woman in her position. There’s a new role in government that needs to be filled. While the Secretary of State has their hands full with all the countries on Earth, someone has to start thinking beyond our little globe.

This country has become a home to countless people from other planets, and the beacon that draws them here shows no sign of turning off. Someone has to shape the message that aliens are welcome here, that we need to open our borders, our skies and our hearts. Someone has to oversee the until-now shadowy organizations that deal with all matters alien.

That’s right, your pen pal is about to be named Secretary of Alien Affairs.

There’s going to be a lot of scrutiny - and resistance - but I can finally find out the whole truth about departments I’ve only heard conspiracies about. Have you heard of the DEO? I suspect you have. They’ll now be reporting to me.

Change is coming, and yet again I’ll be leading the charge.

What do you think? Despite your sometimes meandering delivery, I do value your thoughts, Kara.

Now it’s my turn to be fond,


	16. Chapter 16

Dear Cat,

I’m truly thrilled for you. What a remarkable opportunity, and knowing your passion for inclusion and representation on our little speck in the universe, there is nobody better suited for the job. You always did inspire me. Now more than ever. It warms my heart to know you will be at the center of defending our country’s most vulnerable. Supergirl will also be thrilled. She speaks very highly of President Marsdin. Don’t worry, I’ll let you break the news. Your secret is safe with me, Cat. (I do enjoy using your name… thank you)

Change, it seems, can’t be escaped. At least I know that this particular change will be navigated with thoughtful care and fierce drive and that I have little to fear. 

I admit I have heard rumors of such shady government organizations. My sister is an FBI agent, as you know, but her clearance is absurdly high and she isn’t allowed to share much of it with me. Surely I’ve heard of the DEO at some point in her discussion of the bureaucratic alphabet soup she works in, but I can’t be sure.

Now, for the bad news. After giving it much thought, I’ve come to the conclusion that I am not the person that should be telling your story. I know I’m disappointing you in a number of ways, but Snapper would never allow it. He’d say I’m too close to you, to the story, that my pro-alien bias will color the article. He’s hired a White House Correspondent recently. Your story will be safe in his hands, surely. I’ll stick to pelicans and puff pieces. It’s a shame though. I had looked forward to spending some time with you, as well as the exclusive.

You’re still my hero.

Hopefully still your pen pal,


	17. Chapter 17

Kara,

I’m sure you expect me to feel slighted, to cut you off in anger and give you an easy out from a tricky situation. I think I expected that from me, too. And yet…

I don’t know how much easier I can make this for you.

Everyone else you had to shock, had to make excuses, or keep lying to. I’m letting you come clean without penalty, without losing this special rapport we have. Kara, for once please let someone else help you.

I can’t change the past, and I know I’ve made the truth a difficult prospect for you before. But aren’t you tempted? Don’t you want simple and honest with someone who might actually understand, for a change?

I chose you for a reason, Kara. To be my assistant, to be my new reporter, to be the person I share these private moments with. You know who I have in my contacts list, and still I offered the exclusive to you. What does that tell you?

Not to mention that my new job will put me back in your orbit. And that word choice is as intentional as everything else I do. You have access no other reporter will be granted, even without my specific request. It’s time to use what makes you special, instead of running from it.

From what I’ve always heard, I suspect you could use an ally in that place. One with more real and less local power. Who would support and promote you, just like I’ve always done in your career.

The offer is there, but I need to be sure about who’s accepting it.

I understand the dangers of putting it in writing. Let me know what alternative you prefer, if you want to finally unburden yourself. I’ll make sure you know where to find me.


	18. Chapter 18

Dear Cat,

You make it all sound so temptingly easy.

How can it be, when everything’s always been complicated and hard?

Nobody’s ever offered… easy, Cat. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want it. I’m not supposed to want it. The secret is supposed to define me, does define me in a lot of ways. It affects more than just me, you understand.

And this new job? This thing you’re doing that thrusts you back into my “orbit” as you have so eloquently put it? That isn’t a complication? Surely, you can see why I might be waiting for the other shoe to drop.

But your point is well-taken. And I’m tired. I’m tired of the look in your eyes when you think I don’t trust you, and of the hints dropped with first hope and then disappointment. I’m especially tired of only being a half friend to you.

Your instincts are razor sharp, as always. Much as I cherish our correspondence, this is too important to say in writing.

Leave your balcony door unlocked. 


	19. Chapter 19

Kara,

It was good to see you. Really see you. Don’t worry about the glass in the balcony door, that could have happened to anyone. But you should work on your aim.

Six hours seems like it should have been long enough to cover everything, but I still have questions. I suppose you understand that impulse more these days. A good reporter always has at least one more question. Remember that.

You don’t have to send your piece for me to approve. Publish overnight - to Snapper’s standards at least - and get your exclusive. I won’t have CatCo and the Tribune scooped by your cousin-in-law.

A topic which, I assure you, we will be returning to. How could you, Kara?

Do you feel better? Lighter? Can you feel lighter? I have a sneaking suspicion you still have questions for me, too. I’m sorry we had to cut things short when Carter got up, but it would have been too much to explain and I don’t want to disrupt him before we move semi-permanently to DC.

My first order of business after the press rounds will be a visit to the facilities under my command. I do hope the National City facility will arrange for Supergirl to be present.

See? I told you nothing important had to change.

Perhaps even a little more fondly than last time,


	20. Chapter 20

Dear Cat,

 

How can six hours pass in the matter of a moment? I’m the fastest person on this earth and even I couldn’t believe when the sun began to rise over the Potomac.

I don’t know how you managed it, but you turned what was supposed to be an exclusive for me into a long conversation with an old friend. When I flew across the country to see you, I could never have predicted a night of laughter and tears and such honesty. Lighter doesn’t do this feeling justice. I don’t remember the last time I felt truly unburdened. I won’t apologize for keeping my cousin’s secret. It was not mine to tell, but I did ask his permission. Lois you’ll have to handle on your own. I may never truly understand the relationship the two of you share.

For future reference, and protection of your furniture, it’s never a good idea to test my powers indoors. I have a tendency to break things. I hope you thought up a suitable explanation for Carter. I wish I could have said hello to him. Maybe next time. How is he taking the news about the move? You were right. I did have one more question.

The DEO anxiously anticipates your arrival. I’ve arranged your security detail myself. Someone who has proven her loyalty to me and who I trust with my life and more.

I’ve enclosed a copy of my article that ran in today’s Tribune. Digital tells me traffic on the website is up 13% this morning and the article already has a couple hundred comments. No, I have not read them. I do occasionally listen to you. I suppose I should get used to that again… boss.

The in-depth interview and profile will run in the magazine next week. Snapper’s going over it with a fine-tooth comb and I’m sure he’ll manage to zap my will to live before I see you again.

The bullpen is green with envy over my being named CatCo’s foremost Cat Grant expert.

You say nothing important has to change.

Cat, everything has changed.

With a light heart,


	21. Chapter 21

Kara,

I can’t tell you what a relief it was to escape Washington for all of two days and return home. Thank you for stepping in when the arrangements were botched. Finding a competent assistant is going to be even more trying on a government salary, it would seem.

I’ve walked past that building downtown for years. Well, been driven past it anyway. I think it was even on the list when I scouted buildings for CatCo, but no private elevator…

Supergirl makes a better superhero than tour guide. Although I can consider myself fully briefed now that I’ve seen the least disgusting locker room, the weirdest thing in a specimen tank, and the Director’s secret drawer filled with Choco packets. X-ray vision really is an unfair advantage, and you should be careful of what you might find using it.

A personal highlight was seeing the ship that brought you here. It’s strange to think that something smaller than my bathtub could travel through so much time and space. That’s a full story I’d like someday, but thank you for sharing it with me. 

Is it utterly self-involved to tell you I tried to imagine putting Carter or Adam in that battered little pod? I suppose it is. It almost broke my heart to imagine. Your mother must have been a considerable woman. 

As for my new security detail, you’ve chosen well. Susan isn’t one for small talk, but she’s already thwarted the first attempt on my life. Well, it was actually just an over eager intern with a stapler, but he won’t be rushing into my office again anytime soon. 

Write soon, I find myself getting impatient when I have to wait for updates. Yes, I appreciate this delay was on my end, but you should be used to my double standards by now. 

With ever increasing fondness, and just a splash of impatience,

PS: now that we’re conversing so openly, no more laminating. Burn after reading, Kara. Embrace your inner spy.


	22. Chapter 22

Dear Cat,

“Burn After Reading”

How very cloak and dagger of you, Cat. I admit, I had hoped to keep these letters as little mementos of our growing friendship but I think the excitement of a little espionage might win out. I’ll destroy all the evidence like a good little spy.

I may have been a bit… eager to show you this side of my life since I’ve had to hide it from you for so long. If it makes you feel better, I did the same thing to “Cousin Barry” when he came to visit. The choco stash serves a purpose, though. Hank’s affinity for them is well-known and they can be used as blackmail or coercion should he prove difficult. 

I plead the fifth on the x-ray vision comment.

The story of my journey here is yours, if you ask me about it. Just know that it sometimes comes with the responsibility of holding me up for a bit after I tell it. Alex bears that responsibility even to this day. That little pod was my home for so long. I sometimes feel more comfortable inside of it than in the world at large, if only because it still speaks Kryptonian to me when I ask it to.

As for my mother. She’s no angel, Cat, despite her origin in the stars. I pray you’re never faced with the choices she had to make. She had her reasons, but I’m beginning to think they weren’t as altruistic as I was lead to believe. I remember my mother as beautiful and loving and magnificent. Reality turns out to be less so. I suppose learning that one’s parents are as flawed as anyone else is a common rite of passage, but it doesn’t make it any less painful. You’ll never have to send Carter away, Cat. I promise I won’t let that happen.

Anyway.

Susan texted me a photo of her staple injury sustained in the line of duty. She’s very proud of it. I think she likes you. The last time she was charged with someone’s protection, she dodged the clipboard that Lucy hurled at Alex. Granted, the order of protection came in the form of Alex screaming “Vasquez help!” before said clipboard went flying, so it shouldn’t be a reflection of her ability. I wouldn’t have asked her to take care of you if I didn’t trust her.

Don’t let her get too attached though. I still claim right of rescue in some circumstances. I don’t delegate well, as I’m sure you remember.

I trust this letter is timely enough. Most days when your letters come, I find it difficult to wait until I’m home to pen a response.

From too far away again,


	23. Chapter 23

Dear Kara,

I had hoped to be in town for the New Year celebrations, but you’ve probably heard about the minor hostage situation in my department.

Did I thank you for Carter’s Christmas gift yet? He’s insisting that I do, because apparently I’m “not always as grateful [for you] as I could be”. What could he possibly mean? Regardless, he’s very impressed that you got him those rocks from another planet. He did tell me at length which one, but I believe I’ve contained his curiosity by saying your sister works for NASA. Just when I had him thinking my job was cool, I am yet again outdone by a Danvers, even if it is with a lie.

All of which is my new, patient way of saying you have to be more careful. I can keep your secrets; I’m honored to be trusted with them and I understand the risks. You cannot ask the same of my barely-teenaged son. I know the freedom must be liberating, but deploy the same attention to detail you always did with my schedule, could you please?

Anyway, about that silly hostage mess - I missed a dinner with Madeleine Albright - Susan was a godsend. Did you know she’s an expert in three different martial arts? She’s going to teach me some defensive moves and effective ways to move through crowds, which seems helpful. There’s apparently a gym in my building, but given the work we do here I’m fairly sure it caters more to 12-foot aliens than former CEOs just under 5’6”. Susan says she can find somewhere private for the training, but as always it’s more difficult to find the time.

What does the new year hold for Kara Danvers? Your bylines have gone quiet again. Do you need another middle-of-the-night pep talk?

Yours,


	24. Chapter 24

Dear Cat,

I wish I had seen you over New Year’s too. I had hoped… well, I don’t know what I had hoped, exactly, but I always try to spend New Year’s with people who are special to me. I guess this year, that’s you.

Anyway, I came to you, though you’d never have known it. I saw the hostage situation on the news and flew right there, but the government MIB types wouldn’t let me past the police barriers. I didn’t think Supergirl hulking her way into the building would be great publicity. I was helpless and useless. I’m really glad you’re okay, Cat. Really glad. Susan, apparently, had it all under control. Great. Super. Good to hear it. She’s… the best. You talk about her a lot, did you know that? She also is known for having the messiest locker at the DEO and can’t hold her tequila. But you didn’t hear that from me. 

Your lie about Alex isn’t technically a lie, if you want to split hairs. She consults for NASA on occasion. I’m surprised your best buddy Susan didn’t tell you that. Hug Carter for me. Starhaven is one of my favorite places. The air smells like cinnamon. Just so you know, the man who gave them to me is a completely normal-looking college professor. Kara Danvers could have met him just as easily as Supergirl. But your point is well-taken. I suppose having the Queen of All Media promise to keep my secret gave me a false sense of security. I never want to put Carter at risk. I’m sorry for putting you in an awkward position with him.

My New Year’s resolution is to become a participant in my own life again. It feels like so much of what has been happening has been happening to me, rather than me being in control of my own story. As for my bylines, well… Your crack, old-school journo still has no idea what to do with me. You’ll forgive me if I don’t send you every dead-end, bull-honkey puff piece he assigns to me. I wouldn’t want to bore you in your exciting new action movie life.

I’d never say no to one of your pep-talks. Your superpower, remember?

Yours,


	25. Chapter 25

Kara,

You are a bright, capable, reasonably mature woman. You can handle the toughest situations with grace or force as required.

But for the love of God, you have got to learn how to curse.

You did study at the feet of a master, remember? Or mistress, if we’re going to get all gendered about it. More in a week than your entire life, that’s a well you should have been drawing from. Snapper deserves your derision (and a sharp dose of mine) now and then, but you’ll never get catharsis from being so goddamned polite all the time. When I told you to find the anger behind the anger, that’s not the end of the process.

You have to express it, too.

For example, your feelings about how close I am to Susan these days. I would see how you ran interference as my assistant, keeping everyone out of my orbit unless I specifically requested them. I always assumed that was to keep me happy and undisturbed by morons, but now I’m not so sure of the purity of your motivations. Does Kara Danvers not know how to share?

Let it out, Kara. Why hold back? I never do, and it’s one of the cornerstones of my success.

Just to test your evolution in this regard, I should keep you informed that in the past few days I’ve had some very productive training sessions with Susan - at my home here in DC - and she’s been having breakfast with me each morning she’s on duty, at my request. I took one look at her sad smoothie-to-go, and told her that no amount of rippling abs were worth something so tragic-looking. She informs me that my chef makes a mean egg-white omelet.

I don’t think you have much room to talk about an action movie life, incidentally. When it comes to Carter, you don’t have to worry. As his mother I won’t let you or anyone else put him in danger, but a gentle reminder here and there can’t hurt. You’ll get better at juggling this. You have at everything else.

Yours (despite your most paranoid assumptions),


	26. Chapter 26

Cat,

Well, baiting me into anger always has been one of your favorite pastimes. I’ll remind you that I work very hard to keep my rage under wraps as the consequences for the loss of my temper can be rather… cataclysmic.

You assume I don’t know how to swear. But if you think I didn’t learn a thing or two from Alex ‘fuck off’ Danvers or Eliza ‘bullshit’ Danvers, you haven’t been doing your research. I’ll kindly remind you that I also speak a half-dozen languages with extraterrestrial origins. So, check your assumptions, oh great mistress.

So, you never hold back? You, who can routinely be seen with a highball glass fused to your palm? Who sabotaged Sandra Bullock’s spin bike rather than just ask her why she left you out of her ‘Powergirls’ weekend? You deal with everything by confronting it head-on? Yeah, ok, Cat. Whatever gets you through your nights. With Susan, presumably.

And while we’re on the subject, by the way, I am just fine at sharing. Running interference was my job. Would you rather have fielded needy questions from ‘Danielle in Fitness’ every other day? In her patterned stretch pants? In retrospect, maybe you would have. Need I remind you Susan Vasquez was my idea? You make me sound like I’m jealous, Miss Grant. Did you take a bump to your head in your recent incident? Oh god, did you? I hope you’re okay.

In any case, I couldn’t care less how many breakfasts you share with your favorite bodyguard. I’m simply ensuring you are settling into your new normal.

And to prove to you I am perfectly capable of expressing my anger and in the most polite way possible.

Kindly fuck off,


	27. Chapter 27

You said not to write again until I had calmed down.

I might - technically - be sorry for showing up at your door like that. I never once thought to look up your address while you were my assistant, but having the DEO personnel files at my disposal was too much to resist. If I ever have cause to do that again, I’ll call first. That way my retinas can be spared from your sushi pajamas.

I mean sushi, Kara? Really? Shouldn’t sleep be the one part of the day you don’t spend obsessing over food?

My hand is healing nicely. I want you to know that I won’t forgive myself for that slap, even if it did quite literally hurt me far more than it hurt you. This may shock you, but there are occasions when I don’t exercise my best judgment in favor of the dramatic moment.

Stop laughing, Kara. I can hear you snorting from here and it is not at all attractive. Well, it shouldn’t be. Stop it.

Two damaged tendons and a hairline fracture are all concealed by a Prada wrist support. Who knew that was an option? It was that or the bedazzled one Carter found in the drugstore by his new school.

I had a long talk with Susan when I got back to Washington this morning. As invaluable as she’s been, I discovered she was overdue for a promotion. She returns to you in National City, one rank more senior, next week.

Not because you pouted. Please don’t assume you have that any power over me. I have affairs of state to attend to. Important ones.

Also, you will tell me the name of the moisturizer you use, even if you refused the other night. I’ve been through everything from La Prairie and bespoke mixes from the finest beauticians in the world. I refuse to accept that skin is just sun-glowing genes at work. Tell me one more secret, Kara. I might even say please again.

I leave you with one, important question: do you still want me to fuck off Kara? If not, please do elaborate on what it is you do want.

With great interest in your answer,


	28. Chapter 28

Dear Cat,

For whatever it’s worth, I asked you not to write until we had both calmed down. I assumed that by the time your letter reached me, I would have found my own peace with what happened. I’m glad to report I was right. Our tempers got the best of us and we both acted rashly.

I’m sorry too. For all of it. I’m sorry my cheek hurt you. I’m sorry you felt the need to slap me at all. I’m sorry I implied that your relationship to Susan was anything more than absolutely professional. Taunting you about it was very wrong and you had every right to lash out in that moment. It did hurt me, even if not physically. Vasquez is no longer speaking to me, so I’m paying for my mistakes on multiple fronts. I think she’s ultimately glad for the promotion and recognition, but she enjoyed working with you very much and I get the distinct impression she misses you. She’s right to blame me for her return to National City. That friendship may be beyond repair. I do hope ours is not.

I’m sure you noticed this letter came with a package. I’ve enclosed three things I think you’ll find useful. One is a pain relief salve Alex uses after our training sessions. I have a feeling she made it herself and therefore you likely don’t want to ask what’s in it, but I assure you it’s perfectly safe. The second is my nightly moisturizer. For all the complaining you always did about my hair and state of my pores, you must see the irony now of asking for my skin-care regimen. Eliza sends it to me from Midvale. She gets it from a local woman who we’re pretty sure is an actual apothecary, so again, may be best not to ask. The third is a set of the sushi pajamas you liked so much. Don’t think I don’t recognize when you actually want something. You only saw the pants. I figured the entire flannel set would keep you warm in the harsh DC winter. Enjoy them with a nice saki.

You’ve asked me what it is I want. This, admittedly, is why my response is delayed. Of course I don’t want you to… do what I originally asked. I could never truly want that, even in a fit of temper. But I think my anger came from being frustrated by not asking of you what I’m afraid you will be unable to give. I will always cherish the things you’ve taught me, the time you’ve spent, the wisdom you’ve shared, and I will always be grateful that you chose me as a protege. I think what I really want is for us to move past a simple mentorship. I want, someday, to be seen as a peer, an equal. I fear you will forever perceive me as Kiera, a helpless millennial who requires your guidance, who depends on your natural leadership, who will always follow three steps behind you. When what I truly want is to stand by your side and conquer what may come… together. I realize it is an unfair ask, as I have always played the role of loyal mentee and looked to you to lead me. I’ve always deferred to your choices and asked you for help. And you always gave it and I will always be grateful. But I think it may be time for our friendship to evolve.

If this is something you think you’d be willing to try, I can promise to try to step away from my old habits. In your absence, I’ve been developing my independence, decisiveness and assertiveness. I’m ready, Cat. I know it could be complicated as you are technically still my boss, but you asked what I wanted and this is as close to the truth as I’m willing to come at the moment.

With contrition and hope,


	29. Chapter 29

Dear, dear, Kara:

Before I can tackle what will not be an easy reply from me, there is one thing I have to get off my (modest, but perfectly formed) chest:

Your sister is a genius. Whatever she put in that despicable goo has been more effective than any of my doctors’ remedies combined. If she ever wants to go commercial, tell her there’s a billionaire with all the capital she needs to break into the market. Professional sports alone…

Fine. I’m procrastinating. Perhaps because what I have to say to you is difficult, and until recently I would have considered it impossible.

I am so proud of you, Kara Danvers.

From that first day when I labelled you a reporter and hid that revelation away for the day when you’d be ready to hear it, I knew this day would come. I’ve always suspected that you believe your own appeal lies in this ability to disappear, to bend to the will of whoever needs you most. I can understand that; with secrets like yours how could the most anonymous path not be the most comforting?

But I know exceptional when I see it. I saw it in you a long time ago, before you ever had a cape on your shoulders or a logo on your chest. Yes, you can still be infuriating when you get jealous of people who could never take your place, or when you refuse to see your own value beyond muscle and invulnerability.

I don’t know how you can ask if you’ll some day be my equal when I’m already trying to catch up to you. I’ve conquered my own worlds, Kara, but I don’t think you see yet how this potential of yours may well be limitless.

So yes, our friendship can evolve. It already has, and I confess when I read those words I wondered just what you meant. You’ve stared me down and challenged me and never once stopped supporting me, even when I probably deserved that you stop. If I can be anything close to that for you, I assure you the honor is all mine.

With one condition: if I ever see you in milkmaid braids again, you’ll have a pixie cut in the time it takes me to find a pair of safety scissors. Does that seem fair?

Don’t think I missed that there is apparently further truth to come, but for now I appreciate the honesty you’ve shown me. I’ve tried to give exactly that in return.

I’m wearing the damn pajamas. Carter wants to know ‘when I got so cool’. I’m not sure what stings more: his approval, or the fact that I was apparently less-than-cool to him without ever realizing.

With evolved feelings,


	30. Chapter 30

Dearest Cat,

First things first. While flattery will get you everywhere with my sister, the ingredients in her little invention would never pass FDA muster and therefore it is destined to remain in the shadows, regardless of the billions you wish to throw at it. Winn tried to talk her into going on Shark Tank with it but her inability to obtain a patent or disclose the components prevented her.

I’m glad you liked my hair. (I’m teasing you. Evolved friends can do that, you know) I’ve been experimenting. I have a whole Pinterest board dedicated to unique styles. (I saw that eyeroll, Miss Grant.) I noticed your own hair is getting longer in your prolonged absence. It’s really, very pretty. Not that it wasn’t always pretty. It was. It’s just a… very becoming look for you. Anyway. I’d be happy to give you some pointers the next time you’re close enough for me to get my hands on your hair. Of course, you probably have people for that.

I know. I’m procrastinating too. I find myself a little off-balance, as I always have, by your unshakeable faith in me when I feel I’ve done so little to truly earn it. But I accept it with a warmth in my chest that hasn’t left me since your letter arrived. And whatever it is you see in me, Cat, I assure you I am beginning to see it in myself. I think that’s truly what you want. So, we evolve and I try. Ultimately, it is your pride that feels like the most precious of gifts. I may have dug out the old laminating machine and cut that line from your letter, so I could tape it to the top of my desk, ready for whenever I need the reminder. I’m proud of you too, Catherine Grant. Evolved friends are allowed to be proud of each other, status notwithstanding. 

As for further truths, well… a girl’s gotta keep a bit of mystery, no? I learned that from you.

If Carter thinks you’re half as cool as I do, you’ve won the day. He’s just not allowed to say it out loud. There are teenage codes and whatnot.

Yours more than ever,

P.S. Susan brought me a Pumpkin Spice Latte yesterday. She says she can afford those now. Could it be a blossoming sign of her impending forgiveness?


	31. Chapter 31

Kara, **  
**

If you think Cat Grant, world-famous journalist and media mogul, is going to let ‘mystery’ stand as an answer… well, fine. Just a little longer. I suspect I’d rather unravel this memory in person. You’re still much more tongue-tied around me, and these letters make you a too confident to fluster.

Don’t make offers if you won’t follow through on them, Kara. Why do you think I used to have my hair trimmed twice a week? Admittedly it was to prevent a single split end, but a large part of the joy was having my hair stroked and teased by confident hands. You can pay for a massage, for most things that relax or excite, but with that it has to be under the guise of something else.

This letter is definitely one for the burn pile.

You are now in danger of me asking you to quit your stalled reporting career and come be my full-time hair braider. If we make it Hair-Braider-in-Chief does that sweeten the deal? I kid, of course. I haven’t pulled off a French braid since the day Carter was born, and that was only out of labor room necessity and a nurse hellbent on distracting me.

I’m glad you’ve made peace with Susan. As much as I like her, I don’t expect you to be punished for the petty jealousy you can’t quite help when it comes to me. Let’s not revisit Siobhan.

As the New Year gathers pace it’s time for me to start rolling out my agenda. The staff here are competent but they lack your flair as a human Passion Planner when it comes to details. All the same, I have a series of public events both with the President and without that make me long for my 40th floor office and walking around with no shoes on.

I need a high-profile alien for some of my West Coast events. Do let me know if you think of anyone?

Yours,


	32. Chapter 32

Dear Cat,

  
Your ability to fluster me, even on custom linen stationary, remains intact, Miss Grant.  Congratulations.  I needed a few days to slow my alien heart and gather my thoughts before penning a coherent response.

The anticipation of seeing you again gives me incentive to gather my courage and reveal said mystery.  As per usual, you may already suspect my truth.

As for your hair, the offer stands, even if I no longer can.  I find my knees a bit weak.  It really was an offer for hair tips.  A job offer as your hair-braider sounds infinitely more rewarding at the moment than a feature on former spoiled child stars, most of whom have spent our interviews hitting on me.  I suspect Snapper gave me the assignment knowing that would happen, so he remains high in my esteem.  My apologies for the sarcasm dripping from this page.  I hope it didn’t make a mess.

You goad me for my jealousy, Cat, but why, if it offends you so, did you spend so much time and energy dragging it to the surface?  Nevermind.  Water under many bridges.  Susan and I enjoy bonding over pulling practical jokes on my sister and hiding Hank’s Chocos.

Best of luck with your events.  I’m sure you’ll pull them all of with your normal grace, style and dramatic flair, torturous shoes and all.  When you need that high-profile alien, you know where to find me.  I might know a few.

Don’t be long.  I seem to recall the promise of a visit buried somewhere in your letter, but we may never know for sure as I have already burned it.

Always,


	33. Chapter 33

Dear Kara,

How bold of you to comment on my choice in stationery. Especially when your first audition to become my pen pal was scribbled on what I’m fairly sure was Hello Kitty paper. I will admit that I expected you to write with glitter gel pens, so it was a pleasant surprise to be wrong about that. All those years of you taking notes for me and I so rarely looked at your handwriting. You always typed everything up before I could think to ask.

But now I’d know your writing anywhere. The curve in your ‘K’ that betrays just a little of its origins, so unlike the one in English. The sweep of your a’s and o’s when you’re enthused, bubbling up off the page just as I imagine you floating in your excitement to write it all down. Now that I’ve seen that pastel-toned crime scene you call an apartment, I find myself picturing you as you write instead of the vague notions I had before of you in the office.

I don’t even know if you write these letters in the privacy of your home, but lately I feel like you should. Curled up on that lumpy sofa, using a throw pillow as your table. Or perhaps at the desk that has more tchotkes than available space to work on. In fanciful moments I think you might set it up on one of your easels, all the better to express yourself.

If you check the enclosed package you’ll see a little upgrade in your writing materials from me. At this stage in your life, you really should have personalized letterheads. And don’t go lending that pen to anyone who needs to take down a number. Pens with that level of craftmanship are not to be tossed around carelessly. That also means no chewing on the end, Kara.

I’m tempted to haul Susan back here after all. My security team are completely overreacting to some crackpot letters and emails because of this launch with the President tomorrow, here in DC.

Should I tell them to summon our most bulletproof employee? Maybe then they’d stop trying to put up canopies where nobody needs a goddamned canopy.

Write soon, Kara. You’re becoming something of a bright spot. And I’d like to see you using your gifts.

Yours,


	34. Chapter 34

Dearest Cat,  
  
You have me at something of a disadvantage, Miss Grant.  While you were able to survey the entirety of my bohemian studio from your place just inside my doorway and can now picture me writing to you in any number of places within my little sanctuary, I have only seen the library of your sprawling D.C. penthouse.  And while, yes, I can see you penning these letters in the leather armchair by the fireplace hearth, or at the creaky brass-handled desk in the corner, or even (dare I suggest it) on the overstuffed microfiber sofa in Carter’s little reading nook, is it too much to hope that there are other pieces of your home that have been privy to our correspondence?  
  
The table in your (no doubt) gourmet kitchen?  The media room where Carter plays his video games and you catch up on all the latest with CatCo, penning your next letter atop your own embroidered throw pillow?  Wrapped in a blanket on the second balcony outside your bedroom?  I wonder.  Are there two pairs of glasses on your nightstand, or three?  Idle thoughts.  
  
My handwriting is only Carter’s age, I’m afraid.  Krypton was entirely technological.  Writing was an antiquated lost art, relegated to what my father always called the “frivolous vocations of history and archaeology.”  He indulged my forays into art, but never taught me to write our language.  When I arrived on earth, Eliza spent hours teaching me my letters, helping me find just the right pressure so I wouldn’t tear the paper, break the pencil, dent the table.  And oh I loved it.  The way the slightest press of ink or lead or wax to paper left my thoughts behind.  The words felt tied to me in a way they never did when they could be tapped onto a screen.  I taught myself to draw Kryptonian glyphs and I wrote my name on every surface I could find, in English, In Kryptonian, in Arabic and Russian and Chinese.  I embraced technology easily at CatCo, because it reminded me of home, but my soul will always yearn for the curve of the C in your signature or the flourish by which you cross your T, if only because it ties me to Earth, my adoptive home.  Now you know the true secret of why I always insisted on staying while you signed all those documents.  
  
I recognize the quirks in your characters too, Cat.  The way your letters flatten when you’re mad at me or curl a little on the ends when you drop your pragmatism and allow yourself to dream a little.  
  
Your gifts are extravagant and heartbreakingly lovely.  Don’t think I don’t recognize the same model of outrageously overpriced Mont Blanc that graced your own desk throughout my employ with you. The way the ink soaks into linen pages bearing my name is an unexpected luxury I may never get fully used to.   It’s far too much, and I’m not worthy of such spoiling.  But, I know better than to tell you I can’t accept it.  Besides, I want it, which, of course, you already knew.  I’ll save the pen-chewing for dimestore Bics on my first drafts, agreed?  
  
Now, I fear I must shift gears from this indulgence in the poetic.  If your security team is receiving legitimate threats on your person or your life, Cat, you must do as they say.  I don’t care if they cover the entire route from your office to the White House in bulletproof Kevlar canopies, you follow orders and stay safe.  Not everyone is as open to the presence of alien life on this planet as you and the President.  And you are a target now, whether you’d like to admit it or not.  You joke about me coming to protect you, but so help me Cat Grant I will be glued to your side if I hear so much as a whisper that you are denying your protective detail.  You brushed aside my protection once and it nearly got us both killed.  I won’t allow it again.  
  
Stay safe.  Stay whole.  Stay unharmed.  It’s important to me, Cat.  So much more than you know.  When I see you, I promise I’ll tell you why, but until then, listen to the DEO, even if you still won’t listen to me.  
  
Yours, etched in pen,  
  



	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: gunshots  
> trigger warning: blood

Dear Cat,  
  
Where are you?  
  
The incident is all over the news.  Shots fired, a scramble of security and then nothing.  None of the news outlets had a good camera angle.  Not even CatCo knows what’s going on.  
  
There was blood on the sidewalk, Cat.  But I can’t get anybody to tell me whose.  Everything’s on lockdown, the DEO, the DAA, the State Department and President’s office.  I’ve called, I’ve emailed.  I showed up in Washington in full suit with my DEO credentials.  I threatened everyone from the gatehouse attendant to President Marsden herself.  Everyone’s closed ranks.  Not even Hank’s clearance got us anywhere.  
  
I’ve tried everything, so I’m writing this in desperation, hoping that this last line of communication between us remains open.  I’m hoping that someone, somewhere will realize how important you are to us, the city, the DEO, CatCo, how important you are to me.  I’m holding out hope that someone will reach out.  
  
I’m scared, Cat.  Scared that you’ve left me without so much as a word.  That they’re hiding you or that you won’t speak… or can’t.  Nobody will tell me if you’re alive or…  Just write me back, Cat.  Or call or come visit like you said you would.    
  
I’ll come to your rescue.  I’ll save you.  I just need some clue where you are and how I can help.  I’d tear the whole city apart if I thought it would help me find you.  All I have is silence.   
  
Yours in desperate hope,  



	36. Chapter 36

Dear Cat,  
  
I write this from your high rise balcony.  The one just outside your library where we spent that one incredible night letting each other in.  So many things I said that night juxtaposed against the so many things I didn’t.  
  
I thought if I waited here you might come home, or that if I could somehow feel close to you it may help in my search.  And search I have.  National City, D.C., Metropolis.  Where are you, Cat?  I listen for your telltale heartbeat.  The one I’ve come to know so well.  It’s silent and I can’t help the dire thoughts that creep in… No.  No, I hold onto hope.  We all do.  
  
I’ll drop this with your doorman before I leave, but I have to go back home tonight.  Winn and Susan think they may have a lead.  It’s thin, but I’ll follow a trail of breadcrumbs if it has any chance of ending with you.  
  
Come back to me, please.  You were always a survivor.  Survive now.  Come back and I’ll tell you all of those things I’ve been too cowardly to say.  All the truths you saw in my eyes that night.   
  
I’ll write again tomorrow, and the day after that and the day after that.  I’ll pour myself into these letters, even if you never read a single word.  I don’t know what else to do when all other lines of communication have been cut.  At least this space between us that is just for you and me will continue to be peopled with my thoughts.  
  
I’ll be away from National City in my continued search, but the mail comes at 9:00 each morning like clockwork.  No matter where in the world I am, I’ll be sure to be there to receive it.  
  
You know where to find me.  
  
Always yours,

  


  
  



	37. Chapter 37

Hey Kara?

I don’t know if this is okay.

I swear I didn’t mean to read your letters to my Mom, but my dad keeps snooping around the house so I thought it would be better if I kept them when John the doorman brought them up. Then I thought it might be important, so I read just a little bit. I’ve hidden them in my room, so don’t worry.

Mom’s alive, okay? I think I’m allowed to tell you that. If this doesn’t get to you then the agents watching me have burned it. They’re not from Mom’s job, they don’t have those uniforms. I think they work directly for the President. They’re okay though. Not really friendly but they let me have soda whenever I want.

But Kara, it’s not okay. I’ve only seen Mom one time and she’s hurt pretty bad. There’s this special hospital but I don’t know where it is. I haven’t spoken to her so I don’t know what she would want me to do. I think she wouldn’t like that you’re so worried. Mom always wants to know the whole story, so I guess maybe you’re the same?

I’m scared. I don’t want to live with my Dad all the time, and I don’t like him here in Mom’s house, looking at everything like he’s wondering how much he could sell it for on ebay. I know I should be nicer to him, but he’s said some pretty bad things about Mom and about her new job, so I’m mad at him.

Is it okay that I’m mad at him? I don’t know what to do. I just want my Mom to come home. She would know.

I know I was a pain sometimes Kara, and that I got you in trouble with my Mom. I’m really sorry about that. I’m glad you and Mom are friends. She needs a good friend.

I’m leaving this on the balcony you wrote about. I’ll leave another note if I find anything out or I get to see Mom. I would text but these agents took my phone because secure lines only or something. If you want to write back you can leave your letter behind the big gray plant pot. I only get to come here sometimes, the agents keep us on the move a lot. But I’ll get it.

Yours sincerely,

 

Carter Grant


	38. Chapter 38

Oh Carter,  
  
You brave, sweet, smart boy.  
  
Of course it’s okay.  It’s always okay to write me, even if you aren’t scared.  Even when all this is over and it’s just a normal Tuesday and you need to say something or you’ll burst, you can always write to me.  And it’s okay to be scared and mad and angry at your dad.  Just don’t forget that he might be a little scared too.  But hide the Waterford crystal decanter and the Harry Winston necklace, just in case.  
  
I was never upset with you, Carter, not for one second.  I know what it’s like to want to do something so badly that you just can’t help breaking the rules a little bit to do it.  But right now I need you to listen to the agents.  I know they don’t smile much and that their guns and uniforms are a little much, but they’re there to keep you safe.  Don’t try to escape them.   
  
Your mom is going to be okay.  She’s the strongest person I know and she could never leave you.  She has way too much stuff planned to just leave it all undone.  Have you ever known her not to finish something?  She isn’t done changing the world and she isn’t done creating her legacy and she isn’t done raising you, so she’s going to get better.  So the next time you see her, I want you to hold her hand and tell her you love her and remind her of all the things she hasn’t done yet.  She’ll be asking you for her iPad in no time, just you watch.  If you see her, could you just… tell her I miss her?  That’s all, for now, I think, until she’s better.  
  
There isn’t much I can do about your dad or the agents, but I’ll keep doing whatever I can to find your mom.  I have a lot of friends who know a lot of secret things and they’re trying really hard, okay?  Leave your letters on the balcony whenever you want.  If you hear the agents say something that might help me, you can write it down but only if you feel safe.  If I find out you are putting yourself in danger, I will be upset.  Deal?  
  
One more thing.  You may have read some things in the last letter that seem… impossible.  Your mom and I we… talk in code.  Some of the things I wrote don’t mean what you think they might mean.  So, just ignore all that silly stuff and focus on being brave.  And you are brave, Carter, really really brave.  It was very smart of you to think of writing to me on the balcony.  Your mom will be very proud.  I’m proud of you too.  
  
Take good care of yourself and stay strong kiddo.  
  
Your friend,


	39. Chapter 39

Kara,

I’m thirteen years old. I’m the son of Cat Grant. Just last week I got a sweet 100 score on my math test.

I mean, did you mistake me for a ten year old or something? I know code when I read it. I actually invented one with mom. I know what two people telling each other the truth looks like, too.

Don’t worry, I’m really great at keeping secrets. Mom tells me stuff all the time. She calls me her little vault.

Speaking of Mom, I got to see her for five minutes today. The car windows were all blacked out but I heard the agents talking about Camden Yards before they realized I was listening. Does that help?

Sorry, you’ll want to know if Mom was okay. I got to hold her hand and tell her I was there but she was sleepy, I guess? The doctor who was watching her said she’s going to be fine. Nobody could tell me when I can go back though. I think she knew it was me, but she asked for Adam at one point. I don’t know if I should try to talk to him?

The agents are moving me again right after dinner, so I have to leave this here or I might not get back to the balcony.

I don’t know if Mom is still in danger Kara, but I’ll feel better if you can at least find out where she is and how badly she’s hurt. I’m tired of everyone treating me like a kid, but you’ve never done that.

Please, Kara.


	40. Chapter 40

Dear Carter,

Well, that little floppy-haired apple didn’t fall far from the tree.  You’re lucky you’re cute.  You got me, alright, little vault?  Just… keep it to yourself.  Geez, kid, you’re just like your mom.  Don’t tell her you know.  She’ll kill me.  And don’t tell her I called her a tree.

About your mom… we found her, buddy.  She’s going to be just fine.

The Secret Service has been taking the lead on her security since… the incident.  That’s why we couldn’t find her.  She’s safe, I promise and so are you.

She has to get a little stronger and then she’ll be moved to a normal hospital and the agents from her own department will take over.  The guys you know and that you’re used to.

Hang in there.  The Secret Service agents are humorless, but they’re really good at their jobs and your welfare is very important to them.

As soon as she’s allowed to, Susan’s going to come hang out with you and be your bodyguard for a little while.  I think your mom would like to know someone she knows is with you.

They still won’t let me see her.  I’m too high profile and everyone’s so afraid it will compromise my identity.  I don’t get it.  I have a disguise.  Anyway, it’ll be awhile before I’ll get a chance to see her so tell her ‘hi’ for me and I’ll come as soon as I can.  Make sure she rests.  I mean it.  I have ways of bypassing even the Secret Service to keep her in that bed.  And no newspapers until two doctors say it’s okay… no, three.  Mission Impossible, kiddo.  I believe in you.

I’m told she’s still pretty banged up, Carter.  She’s got a long road ahead, but she’s strong and she’ll pull through.

Stay brave.  I’m really proud of you.

Your friend,


	41. Chapter 41

Hey Kara,

Floppy? My whole life is in chaos and you choose now to rag on my hair? Harsh. Way harsh. 

My hair isn’t floppy, okay? Natural curls just sit that way. I’m sure Mom could recommend a stylist if your blowouts are disappointing you.

And Mom could definitely do that, because today I got to spend almost an hour with her. 

You’re right about her being banged up. Last time she was all covered by blankets, but this time I could see all the tubes and bandages, because she was sitting up a little in bed. Said she wasn’t going to lie down when she finally had a chance to talk to me. 

I know you know this, Kara, but my mom really is a badass. 

The agents said they’d leave us alone, but Mom gave me the look like we both knew they’d be listening in. She wanted to know where they’re moving me, what Dad has been doing, and if I’d seen any letters at the house.

So it’s okay that I told her, right? I didn’t bring the letter in case the agents found it in my bag, but Mom says she’s okay with it if you’re okay with it. I said she could write to you herself, but she got hurt in the shoulder as well as her leg so she can’t use her right arm much right now. 

I think she said something about bullets. Is that true Kara? I know she’s hurt, but did someone actually shoot her? Who would want to do that? 

Anyway, I don’t have long before school. So I have to relay Mom’s message to you. I wrote it in my math book so I could copy it out again, word for word:

Stop worrying, Kara. I’m perfectly fine, just inconvenienced. Thank you for sending Susan, I know she’ll look after Carter. Don’t do anything dangerous just to see me. I’ll be home before you know it. 

She was so tired when I had to leave though. Mom never gets tired. I’m not supposed to worry you, but you almost always tell me the truth. If there’s any way to help my mom then I want to do it, and you can show me how. 

Let me know soon. There are other heroes out there, so don’t even think about talking me out of it. 

 

Carter Grant


	42. Chapter 42

Dear Carter,

 

My attempts to keep things light and inject some comic relief into what has been a very difficult time for you are going unappreciated.

Noted, Young Grant.  From now on, teenage angst and earnest support only.

I’m so sorry it’s been so long since I’ve written.  I was trying to find a way to see you both, to no avail.  It was wasted time so I return to the written word.  I’m better on paper anyway, just ask your mother.  Your days as a covert spy are almost done, Carter, I promise.  Now that you’re safe and we know where Cat is, you can focus on just spending time with her and helping her get better.  I’ve already asked more of you than I should have.

I know she probably looks like she’s hurting and we’re going to find the people that have done this to her.  She’s one of us now and we take care of our own.

I am going to ask you to give her a message.  You don’t need to write it in your math book. (Honestly Carter, what will your math teacher say?)

OK, here goes:

_ Only you would consider multiple gunshots an inconvenience.  I will always worry about you, you impossible, stubborn, perfect human so rather than telling me not to, how about you give me a reason to stop worrying.  Carter says you’re a badass, which I already knew.  Prove him right.  Get better.  Come home.  There’s still so much to say.  I hope to see you soon.  _

So there it is, Carter.  You asked about bullets.  Yeah, your mom was shot, but if anyone can survive it, she can...and she is.  Every second you spend with her will help her.  That’s what will make you a hero in my eyes.  I know it scares you to see her like that.  Being a hero doesn’t mean you aren’t afraid, it means you can fight that fear and do what needs to be done.  The only thing you need to do is be  _ her _ hero.  Do the stuff she doesn’t know how to ask for.  You and me are really good at figuring out what she needs and I’m not there to puzzle it out.  That’s your job now.

You’re so much like her.

Sending you (and her) a big hug,

 


	43. Chapter 43

Kara,

This has taken longer than expected. My first attempts were rounded out by Carter but I asked him not to send those. I hope you understand. I wanted you back to myself for a while. I wanted something to feel normal, so as painful as it is to write for any length of time, I persisted.

I appreciate everything you did for him. Every reassuring word, every time you pleaded with him to stay safe and within bounds. That was a hero speaking, and when I couldn’t be there for my son, I’m glad that you were. I’m sorry he worked you out. He always has been the best and the brightest. Like mother, like son.

I have so much to tell you. I think at one point I was telling you in my dreams. It seems silly to write it all down now, when the drugs are working and the wounds are slowly closing. I don’t suppose that miracle healing of yours is transferable? I’d certainly like to find out if that bulletproof quality of yours can be borrowed for public events.

I’ve never been hated like this before. I’ve been mocked and ridiculed and bitched about, but I’ve never done anything people thought I deserved to die for. Not even frosted highlights in ‘01.

They’re finally letting me go home tomorrow, even if it is with a hospital bed and armed guards. I know you’ll see that as an invitation, but there’ll be no slipping in through the balcony for a while. I can’t even get lipstick on at the moment, so absolutely no visitors.

If you want to keep an extra eye on Carter I’d be happy with that, though I understand if events in National City are keeping you busy. God knows I can’t expect you to be there for me every time I click my fingers.

The nurse is threatening to put all my stationery in medical waste, and so I have to end here. It might be worth sacrificing just one pen to jam it in this woman’s jugular.

Best wishes,


	44. Chapter 44

Dear Cat,  
  
My breath caught in my throat a bit at the sight of your distinct scrawl, a bit messier than normal, but beautifully and blessedly yours nonetheless.  If you think for one second that whether or not you are wearing _lipstick_ has any bearing on a) my desire to see you, b) my impression of your strength, bravery, endurance and beauty or c) whether or not I bust through your balcony doors, you obviously forgot who I am.  But… I am all about consent, and if you wish me to remain scarce, I’ll look in on Carter and resist the temptation to land on your balcony.  If, however, this is your typical Cat Grantian way of trying to give me some kind of “out” just stop right now.  I will be at your side in as much time as it takes for you to call my name, but you have to _ask_.  I make no secret where I want to be.  Have I ever not been there for you when you click your fingers?  
  
I was happy to stay in touch with Carter while you were… sleeping, but my heart is full to bursting at hearing that you’re slowly on the mend. He was so brave, Cat.  Such a little hero in his own right.  He’s smart and kind and snarky and so like his mom.  You’re raising a valiant, extraordinary young man.  You should be very proud of him.  I can’t blame him too much for sussing me out.  I suspect he’s known since the train.  
  
I, too, have much to say.  I’ve told my own secrets to your CatCo balcony, for fear I’d never have another chance to say the words aloud.  I could go into theories about dream walks and subconscious meetings-of-the-minds, but they’re all so hopelessly Kryptonian that they’d come off sounding like that new-age masseuse you made me fire that one time.  Speaking of Kryptonian theories… years ago, Alex began an experiment with trying to use my DNA to produce a healing and invulnerability agent that could be used in hospitals and military operations, but Eliza shut her down as soon as she found out, citing ethical grey areas and walking genetic lines.  The research has been sitting in a drawer in Midvale ever since.  I’m sorry I can’t help you.  I don’t think your doctors would approve of an alien blood transfusion, and from what you describe of her, there isn’t getting much past Nurse Ratched.  
  
I have two promises to make you.  One… I will find whoever did this to you and I will make sure they are handled.  I won’t say any more.  The less you know the better.  If you think your friends are powerful…  Two… I will never let this happen to you again.  These people hate me and my kind.  You were collateral damage in an avalanche of fear and rage and I intend to shield you from that from now on.  I can’t stop the ridicule or the media scrutiny or the frosted highlights, but I can stop bullets.  
  
I’d like to see you, clean face and all, should you change your mind.  In spite of my brand of hope, I am very much a ‘seeing is believing’ type of person.  You need only say the word.  
  
Joyously relieved and ever yours,  
  



	45. Chapter 45

Oh Kara,

It’s not that simple. 

I’m sure Snapper would yell at you to see the bigger picture. Frankly I’m a little disappointed you’ve resorted immediately to platitudes and promises you can’t keep. This isn’t some franchise movie where the world resets with a motivational speech. Someone who’s lost as much as you have? Should know that only too well.

Though you’re right about Carter. He’s exceptional in every way. We’ve talked more since he’s been allowed to see me post-incident than we have in the past year. Boys, teens… tough. They don’t put any premium on communication. I feel wretched that I’ve scared him so badly he can’t help but talk to me every chance he gets. All the same, the selfish needs of a mother’s love make me soak up every second of it. I know it’s going to stop again before long.

Adam was informed, or so I’m told. He sent flowers to the house, not much in the way of a note. It’s better than I would have expected even a year ago. I know I have you to thank. I’m trying to remember all the reasons I have to be grateful, to Kara and to Supergirl.

Because, you see, I did call out to you. That first shot hit me in the shoulder and I called your name. Correctly. Not Keira. Not the girl of headlines and legends. Two syllables I denied you for so long. 

Kara. 

You didn’t come. I’ve never been more terrified - that I was dying, that I’d never see my sons again, that we’d leave each other in the midst of this ongoing conversation I’ve come to look forward to more than I should - and you didn’t come. It’s there in my medical records that I was asking for you before they put me under. But you weren’t there. 

Which I would never have questioned you on. I’m sure something much more important kept you in National City. I have my own security detail, and they saved me as best they could. I didn’t need you, technically. But in the worst possible moment, I wanted you. 

Arrogant? Self-serving? Mean-spirited of me to tell you now? Perhaps all these things are true, but we’ve promised to be honest with one another. Just like you were honest on my balcony when you were drugged. The truth will out. That’s why I don’t want you to visit Kara, aside from my vanity. I’m not sure how to feel when my faith is so shaken. 

I believe you’ll do anything you can to save anyone. I suppose I tricked myself into thinking I’d found myself once again on the VIP list. Maybe that’s not how it works with heroes. I should know better than to expect to be anything special to you.

So don’t take time out of your busy life to come here and inspect my bruises. You don’t even have to keep looking out for Carter, that was more than I should have asked. I’ll see you when I’m back on the job - sooner, rather than later - and I have reason to visit the National City facilities on official business. 

Writing this much is far more than I should have done, so you’ll forgive me if I’m too tired to continue.


	46. Chapter 46

Miss Grant,

I’ll thank you not to throw everything I’ve lost back in my face like so many drinks at a rude date.  You couldn’t possibly know what it’s like to lose absolutely everything.  Your family, your home, your culture and language.  I lost the very air I breathed and the sky over my head.  But, of course, as always, you have the inside track on promises I can and cannot make.

I’m always very careful about not promising people that I’ll remain safe and whole.  I have no reason to believe that is true, but don’t tell me I can’t protect the people I care about.  I know better than anyone what the word promise means.

Adam came back to you, Cat, not that you’re especially grateful for that particular gift, whatever my part in it.  My parents aren’t just going to show up at my office one day because someone wrote them a letter.

You’re worried that someday, in an undefined future, Carter may not want to tell you about his day?  If that’s loss… you know what, never mind.  Explaining it is futile to someone who values their own pride above someone else’s pain.

The truth is, I didn’t hear you that day.  I can’t explain why.  D.C. is far away.  Even my own hearing has limits.  I don’t know where I was or who I was with that afternoon.  The bar where Mon-El and M’gann work is noisy, the DEO is entirely lined with lead.  I’m deaf to the outside world there.  If I was at CatCo, I would have heard you call for me, I’m sure of it.  And I would have come, without hesitation or second thought.  I won’t pretend to know how terrified or lonely you felt in those moments, when you believe I had abandoned you.  I’m sorry I wasn’t there and sorry your faith in me is so irreparably shaken.  

I only found out what happened hours later, and I did come, Cat.  I came for you.  I was too late.  By the time I arrived you were already under lock and key.  If you think I didn’t try everything in (and beyond) my power to get to you, then there is no point in me trying to convince you.  You’ve likely already made up your mind.

You seem to think I keep some kind of velvet rope around my heart and you have been left off the list.  I’m not sure what I’ve done to give you that impression, but such a rope does not exist, and certainly not for you.  Consider that door closed now.  Our “ongoing conversation” as you have so flippantly named the pouring out of myself to you, has come to an end.  We are not the people we have come to believe the other is, and nothing is more heartbreaking to learn.

We’ll keep things running smoothly here in National City.  You shouldn’t find the need to visit anytime soon.  Your agents will keep you safe as I have failed to do.

Hug Carter for me.  I’ll miss him.

  



	47. Chapter 47

Really, Kara,

Your ability to overreact is rivaled only by my own. When the Queen of all Hissyfits thinks you’ve overdone it, perhaps it’s time to reevaluate. 

That said, I had no intention of hurting you. I don’t think it’s entirely fair that you ask for the unvarnished truth and then get offended by it. I did call out for you. You didn’t come. What else should I say when you promise to always be there? Pretend? I think we both know pretending doesn’t work for either of is. 

Of course, in your righteous anger you’ve probably relegated yourself to being no more than some kind of Uber service - a convenience I rely on then get snarky about when it fails. Perhaps that was true once upon a time, when you were no more than a badly-dressed flunky bringing me Chipotle as some kind of dare. If you dare to think that’s all you are to me now, Kara… 

I’ve told you time and again that I push people. That I expect too much. That no one can ever live up to the impossible standards I set as qualification for my attention. For my love. And here you are, meeting every one. How could I be anything other than devastated when that finally failed? Not through any fault of yours. Through the sheer law of averages, or just bad luck. It doesn’t make it any less lonely to be without the one person you’ve come to count on more than anyone else. 

I’m sorry that I put that pressure on you. I see from your reaction that this time I have truly asked too much of you, Supergirl. I won’t do it again.

But there’s no need for our conversation to end, simply because we encountered a tricky part. Carter talks about you constantly, you’ve made quite the impression. And I think you know by now that you’ve made an even deeper impression on me.

It breaks my heart to think of you trying to get to me, I’m sorry I assumed you didn’t. I close my eyes and imagine what all those lost days, all that silence, must have done to a girl who woke up to find her world had vanished. If I could undo that, if I had any power to fix it, please know that I would. 

You told me that night, not so very long ago, that your world makes more sense with me in it. We do better together, Kara. We’re stronger together. Don’t let stubborn pride and careless words take that away from either of us. I don’t know how I can face this recovery, going back to a world with a target on my back, without having you in my life. 

Besides, I’m much better at dramatic flounces than you are. Don’t compete with the best. 

Yours, and I’m sorry if you ever doubted that,

 


	48. Chapter 48

Playing hard to get, Kara?

I respect that. In fact, I almost admire it. It’s irritating beyond belief that in upsetting you I’ve handed power to the one person who knows exactly how to get under my skin. Do you keep a chart? Check each action on a scale of whether it will trigger my awful temper? Maintain a list of the few things you’ve ever seen reduce me to tears.

So you rejected the delivery of flowers. Fine. Not my most original idea, and I’m working without a decent assistant. Sending flowers to your office was as cliché as it was unprofessional, especially while you’re struggling to be taken seriously, so you’re right to refuse.

The cupcakes, you accepted. Even if you did sign the delivery receipt with ‘bite me xx’. Knowing your appetite as I do, and that I denied you those superlative baked goods before, I’m not entirely surprised at that moment of concession.

And yet you hold firm on not replying. 

You really think you’ve ended this conversation with me, that we have nothing left to say to one another. You don’t realize the days and hours I spent unable to talk to you or anyone, how I used that time to compile endless lists of things I want to tell you, motivational speeches I’ve yet to give you, confessions that sometimes I think I owe you.

Then I remember that if I care for you at all, it would be kindest to keep those confessions to myself. That I can’t tell you the effect thinking I’ve lost you for good is having on my mental health and my recovery. I won’t guilt you into coming back to me, Kara. It has to be because you forgive me and you miss talking to me, too. But you also know how accustomed I am to getting what I want. When it comes to you, only that stubborn decency of yours stops me from crossing those lines.

Thus, I won’t bribe you with a sports car, not least because I remember the fateful day you collected me in my Ferrari when I was too drunk to drive it home. We’d honestly have been safer with me at the wheel and three times over the limit, I suspect. I won’t call your every known acquaintance to get them to tell you to talk to me - although I have an unlisted number here for Danvers, E. in Midvale, CA. In case you thought injury had dulled my investigative skills. 

Talk to me, Kara.

Even if only to keep telling me how I hurt you and how disappointed you are. Tell me about how scared you were, how I did that to you, and let me absorb the blame I deserve for it. I’ll even listen to your millennial dating woes, no matter how much that pains me now, if it means you’re writing back. 

I can be insincere. I can be flippant and careless, and discard people who don’t mean much to me. I can’t be any of those things with you, so draw your own conclusions. I could certainly never discard you, so I ask you not to do the same with me.

I keep telling myself I won’t beg. Kara, please don’t make me a liar. 


	49. Chapter 49

Kara,

I said I wouldn’t beg.

Now my three idiot doctors tell me I can’t fly, thwarting my plans to come and break that rule in person. 

Or so they think. The trouble with doctors is that their trifling advice is no match for money. Pilots will fly anyone anywhere for the right amount, especially if you also provide the plane. What’s the worst that can happen? 

It’s more important that I see you, that we put this right. I didn’t expect you to hold out this long, not after everything I’ve said. It made me realize how deep this hurt must go, and the thought of doing that to you has affected even my two hours of sleep each night.

Just tell me the damage isn’t permanent. That I haven’t broken that Sunny Danvers disposition for good. Or at least that it’s only unavailable to me. The rest of the world still deserves your kindness Kara, even if I don’t. 

If you doubted my determination to resolve this, I hope you’re now seeing the error of your ways. I’ll leave tomorrow, after I’m done with whichever tedious doctor is checking on me next. 

Please be home when I come to call, Kara. I’m sure you’ve seen all kinds of once-in-a-lifetime events, celestial or otherwise. So prepare yourself for the apology equivalent of Halley’s Comet. And be gracious enough to accept. 

See you soon,

 


	50. Chapter 50

Cat,

Stay put.  You dummy.  I’m coming.

I swear to Rao, Cat Grant, if you get on an airplane, your ‘idiot doctors’ will be the least of your worries.

God knows nobody ever questioned your commitment to a goal.   _I’m_ overreacting?  Says the woman who threatens to pull stars from the sky to eliminate the light by which we see her vulnerabilities.

And after everything, every stroke of my pen and soft word and hopeful plea, you still actually believe I might be dating?  You monumental idiot.

You talk about power like it’s a commodity to be bought and sold and you lament having given so much of it to me.  You fear I’ll wield it like a weapon and damage you even more than I have after you’ve spent years bludgeoning me with yours.  Power, I have, Cat.  It’s those confessions you fear so greatly that I truly crave.

I’ll give you mine, when I see you.  That should be only a few hours from your receipt of this letter (which I have spent a fortune to send via urgent messenger).  I have to see a man about a cape, as I don’t know how long I might be away.

Keep that apology close.  Halley’s Comet was nothing compared to the asteroid belt surrounding Daxam.  I’ve seen comets that would obliterate earth before you could say ‘fall on my sword.’

~~Why do you make it so impossible for anyone to~~

No. Soon.

P.S.  The cupcakes were delicious.  Thank you.

 


	51. Chapter 51

Dearest Cat,

This is not the way I had imagined you waking up this morning.  This morning of mornings.

An impersonal letter left on the nightstand next to your reading glasses doesn’t ring of the chivalry and romance I had dreamed of the number of times I had imagined this.  And no, you don’t get to know how often that was.

I’ve been called away, as you will find happens with me, more often than either of us will like.

I couldn’t bear the thought of waking you.  You look so beautiful when you sleep (I’m allowed to say that now, you know).  You should do it more often.  The sunlight that I so adore has found an eternal home in your messy curls and on the soft skin of your cheek.  I watched the sun rise on your features and I haven’t looked away since.  I’m allowed to look now, maybe even to touch.  I gave myself permission to trace the little crease-mark the pillow left across the corner of your eye where it disappeared into your hairline.  I let my fingers curl in between yours like they did last night as I watched you drift off on the sofa next to me.  You may not remember me carrying you to bed, but that memory is branded on my mind. I couldn’t forget the way you tucked yourself against me.  I won’t tell you how I nearly dropped you when you brushed your nose against my neck.  I’m sitting there now, watching you sleep, writing a too-long missive and remembering the way your lips felt against mine.

As I sit here, writing to you on your own stationary, the memories of last night wash over me in waves.  I’ll never forget that moment, when the hurt and anger, frustration, pain and fear, all fell away the moment you said, “Come here, Kara.”  And I did.  I couldn’t stay mad with you wrapped in my arms, solid and warm and _alive_.  Or the moment I lifted you from your bed, finally unhooked from all your tubes and wires and carefully set you on the balcony, where we could enjoy the city together, as we’ve done so many times before.  The hours we talked blend together into one long moment of truth and care and promises not to promise.  But the moment that stands out most is the moment I said, “I’d like to kiss you, Cat.” and for an eternity you didn’t answer, and instead you pressed your lips to mine and I fell off the edge of the world.

I’m sorry you’re still in such pain.  I’d take it away in an instant if I had that kind of power.  My power lies elsewhere.  I long for the day when you’re stronger, when I can take you flying, in any number of thrilling ways.

So, I’ll give you one last kiss, because I can do that now, and leave the way I arrived, though infinitely lighter of spirit and mind.

Time will stand still until I can see you again.

I’m sorry I called you a dummy… and a monumental idiot… though I maintain in that moment they were not entirely inaccurate.

I have to go, but I leave my heart behind.  Guard it well.

Truly yours,


	52. Chapter 52

Darling Kara,

You don’t ever have to apologise for not being there, more often than not I’ve been the absent party. Please know what matters is that you were ever there in the first place. I’ve learned recently how hard it is to miss what you’ve never had. I’m just glad to have you, in whatever way you’re available to me. 

I don’t know what I expected when you finally came barrelling through the balcony windows, a whirlwind of flowing cape and bouncing curls. There have been times, as I skimmed over when we talked, that I thought I might not survive this recent nonsense with the shooting. So I should have been worried my casual atheism was being disproved, that I’d been sent an angel, but we both know I’m far too cynical for thoughts like that.

I just wish that you’d found me whole and well, and functioning at full strength. I wish my hair had been styled, no matter how much you seem to like running your fingers through my unruly natural curls. I wish I’d applied more than a perfunctory swipe of makeup, the better to hide the years and the ravages of recovery from those amazing eyes of yours that miss nothing. For weeks I’ve felt nothing like myself, scared to look too closely or touch for too long. 

A few minutes in your company and I felt beautiful again. Maybe more than I ever have. I wish I knew how you did that. 

I remember you carrying me, Kara. Even half-asleep I can’t ever forget it, because the safest place on this Earth is in your arms. I’ve built an empire of glass and steel, wrapped myself up in the finest fabrics as armor, and for most of my days I’m surrounded by armed bodyguards. That’s protection, yes, but it’s not safe the way I am with you.

I wasn’t kidding about how much more we’ll have to talk about this. 

About what it means, on different coasts, with lives to juggle and my sons to protect. I’m still wary that you should be wasting your time with someone closer to your age, but then the very thought of someone else being the one you hold like that, the one you so politely ask to kiss, uncoils a very jealous streak inside me that I suppose won’t be much surprise to you. 

You’ve always been mine, Kara. I just didn’t ever dare speak that claim out loud until now. See? You’re not the only one who’s been terrified and holding back. As always, we’re more alike than we’ve ever been able to admit. 

I don’t want to end this on doubts and misgivings. I want to end this (for now, very temporarily) on asking if kissing is also in your arsenal of superpowers? Is there something in our yellow sun that makes you very, very good at it? I’ve always considered it a precursor to more interesting things, but while I’m still technically out of commission, I find that kissing you is something I could clear an entire day to do. Hell, let’s think big and find a whole weekend. 

Hurry back. 

 


	53. Chapter 53

Kara,

When I said hurry back, the emphasis on _hurry_ was strongly implied. 

Of course, now you’re back in National City, you may be having second thoughts. Perhaps that strong-headed sister of yours sat you down and talked sense into you. 

I’ll understand. I won’t like it one bit, but I’ll understand. 

If, on the other hand, you’re as crazy about me as your babbling confessions suggest? Then. get. your. ass. out. here. 

Still yours, 


	54. Chapter 54

Dear Cat,   
  


I’ll be there as soon as I can.  I am as impatient as you are to spend my time on more pleasurable things.  I wish I could blame my delay on a heroic rescue or precautionary quarantine or world-ending crisis.  But the truth is, I have to work.  

We poor stringers are paid by the word and I'm already on thin ice with Snapper having stretched the deadline of my last two assignments.  He was as relieved as anyone to hear you were alright and I think he gave me a pass on some of my slacking off, but I do need to keep my job, waiting lips notwithstanding.  And now he seems to be punishing me for my absence.

I had hoped to address the concerns of your previous letter in person, however since we are once-again forced to be apart, pen and paper will have to do.  So… Sit down and pay attention.

Whether you are recovering or sleeping or running an empire, you are stunning and perfect and breathtaking and how many times am I going to have to tell you this before you own your beauty?  Even without a speck of fancy makeup or an ounce of hairspray, you are everything I could ever want in a woman, so stop fretting and just get better.  
  
You’ll always be safe with me.  And I know we talked about impossible promises, but this one I’m sure of.  When you are in my presence, not a curly hair on that brilliant head will come to harm.   You are mine, just as much as I am yours, and I take care of what’s mine.  
  
I know none of this will be easy and I know we still have much to discuss.  We’ll wait until you’re feeling stronger.  Having you drift off mid-sentence while lecturing me on the complexities of what we’re facing was enough to tell me we have to take our time.  But being accustomed to superspeed makes ‘taking it slow’ a bit of an extra challenge for me.  On top of which, I can feel you beginning to talk yourself out of this, out of some kind of misplaced altruism or societal ageist insecurity.  Don’t.  I’m a big girl, Cat Grant Don’t make my decisions for me.  Hold onto that jealous streak, if that’s what keeps you with me, but I won’t let you push me away without a fight.

  
If anyone should be feeling completely out of her depth, it’s me…

You asked me what I’m sure you think was a rhetorical question.  It’s funny you should mention superpowered kisses.  I do have one, little-known, little-used power tied to my kiss.  Clark had to use it on Lois once, years ago, and he’s warned me of its danger too many times to count.  You have my word I won’t use it on you, unless you ask for it, but if there is ever something you’re desperate to forget, I may be able to help you.  I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.  Nothing about being with me will be normal, even though that’s all I’ve ever wanted.  
  
Yours and ready to shout it from the rooftops,

 

   
  



	55. Chapter 55

Well.

Consider my ego well and truly stroked, Kara. Amongst other things. Despite your many promises that you could offer nothing more than kisses, I do remember those hands of yours wandering. 

If it’s your intention to drive me crazy and have me beg for all the more that I can’t have yet… job well done, you maddening alien. I suppose I shouldn’t be entirely surprised, you’ve been teasing me for over two years now, whether you realized it or not. The perils of falling for youth and inexperience, I suppose. 

In the safety of the distance between us, since you have to work, can I confess something further?

You excite me, Kara. In a way that I rarely suspected I was capable of. Oh, I’m no stranger to the pleasures these bodies of ours can provide. You know I’d never sacrifice quality on that or any other front in my life. It’s just that I’ve never been so consumed by just the thought before, so utterly obsessed with what it might finally be like to be with you that way. To have come so much closer now, with kisses, and hands that touch with just a hint too much hesitation, it’s only adding fuel to a considerable blaze.

It’s motivating me to throw everything I have at this recovery, that’s for damn sure.

Previously I might have been content simply to be worshipped, to offer quid pro quo out of some sense of obligation. Sex has always been so transactional in the past. The price of companionship, with a few perks in the process. A way to get the people I wanted, the family I wanted, the person in question always replaceable in the end. I once jokingly called myself the Pillow Queen of All Media. My ex laughed and didn’t correct me.

But with you? I hope I’m making you blush by telling you how much I want all my strength and range of motion back. I could list the things I want to do to you, Kara, but I fear even my beautiful stationery would combust at the content of it, as surely as if you’d unleashed those fearsome eyes of yours. 

That said, if you were to come back as soon as possible, I could whisper some of those things in your ear. Let my lips graze that sensitive spot just beneath that we discovered yesterday. If that’s any kind of incentive to break the sound barrier.

See you soon?


	56. Chapter 56

Dear Cat,

  
Congratulations.  I’m afraid the blush you’ve caused is permanent.  Both Alex and Susan commented on it yesterday.  Job well done.

Don’t think for a moment that my blushing at the thought of all those delicious whispers into my ear means I plan to shy away from this… us.  I believe you fancy me a shrinking violet.  I can see why.  I’m clumsy.  I fidget and giggle.  I do that when I’m nervous.  And oh, did you always make me nervous.  You still do.  My heart races and my stomach flips and it’s all I can do to keep my hands to myself.

If I’m reading accurately between the lines, you appear to be… anxious.  It seems you are a bit unsure of yourself when it comes to physical affection.  That’s okay.  You lead in the boardroom… I’ll take over in the… well, you get the idea.

Sex wasn’t really necessary on Krypton.  I was born from a birthing matrix, a genetic codex that created scientifically perfect children.  So, at twelve, while human children would be getting ‘the talk’ and awkward sex ed classes, I was taught about gene splicing and the marriage of well-matched families.  I’m sure Kryptonians were affectionate, even sexual, but it wasn’t instinctual and certainly not done with the same joy and abandon humans find in the act.  My long-awaited point is that I have… taught myself about human approaches to love and… done considerable… reading.  And while that sounds terribly clinical and cold, the truth is, I really do know how to enjoy myself.  I think I can help you enjoy yourself too.  And now my blush is back, just so you know.

Don’t worry, Cat.  I promise you I will not let you delegate your part in this to me.  You consider yourself some sort of Pillow Queen?  No.  We’re going to be partners in this, equal ones.  I’d offer to bring some of my more useful books, but I think in your case we just need to throw the instruction manual away and just… have fun.  Trust me, if you’re as good at the rest of it as you are at making out on your couch, we haven’t got a thing to worry about.  

It’s a shame this part of your life always came with such outside motivations and rewards.  You seem never to have experienced pleasure for pleasure’s sake.  I must say I’m disappointed in John Stamos.  He certainly dropped the ball with you.  If he didn’t take full advantage of the gift he was given, well… then he really is just a beach bum.

I already know how responsive you are.  You simply need the right… incentive.  That’s where I come in.

Did you just call me a tease?  No matter, keep getting better.  I’ll see you soon.

 

  
  



	57. Chapter 57

Kara,

These flying visits are the highlight of my week and still not frequent enough. I never thought to ask before, but are you actually carbon neutral? Not that it would stop me wanting you here daily. I might just have someone plant a few trees to offset you. 

Now I’m distracted again, thinking about lying under the shade of a tree with you. No doubt you have a ridiculous special picnic blanket for such occasions, and you’d bring a basket brimming over with all the things you need to keep that appetite under control. The balcony isn’t enough for me now, I want to be out in the world again. I want to be back at work, I want to take you to all the places you deserve to be shown. After all the secrets we’ve had to keep, I want to share everything with you. Instead I see this house, my doctors, and the daily physio that exhausts me but it’s working at long last.

Which means you don’t need to keep holding back, Kara. Every time I see you, kiss you, touch you, we end up getting a little farther. If your intent is to tease me to death, you’re succeeding. That endless compassion of yours is getting in our way, and I won’t break if we just push my body a little more. I know to someone as young and unbreakable as you I must seem so very fragile, but trust me. Experience has taught me exactly what I can handle. And dammit, I want to handle you.

Because I’ve seen under that suit of yours now. Kara, if I’d known you were hiding that body under cardigans and poorly-tailored shirts for two years, I’d have personally torched the lot and taken you on a Barney’s spree. There’s no reason we can’t when I’m back to full shopping fitness. And trust me, we are almost there. 

I want to know what those foreign little curses were that you murmured every time you got carried away, every time I thought you might not stop. I can still feel the whispers against my neck, in the hollows of my collarbone, and that very emphatic hiss when you made it halfway down my body before making yourself stop. 

What is it you didn’t trust yourself to say in English, darling? No more secrets. You can’t possibly shock me, not after all this. 

Tell me soon, or better yet, come say it in person.

Maddeningly yours, 


	58. Chapter 58

Dear Cat,   
  


If I’m carbon neutral, it’s only because you take my breath away.

I’ll plant a tree for every piece of you I want to keep close.  Willow for how you inspire me.  Heather for the dreams I have of you.  Magnolia for your beauty.  Rosewood for your grace and spirit.  Cherry for how sweet you smell and the way you blossom under my touch.

I guess I didn’t realize the things I was whispering against your impossibly soft skin weren’t English.  You overwhelm me, Cat, and I suppose I can’t help but slip into my native tongue.  There are not exact translations for many of those words.  Sweet nothings mostly, but there was that one moment, you remember the one, just before we had to stop.  With my lips against that delicious little dimple, I couldn’t help but tell you all the ways I’d imagined making you feel special and worshipped.  All the things I’d dreamed we’d do together.  I called you  _ :zrhueiao _ , (beautiful) and  _ mishidh _ , (paradise).  And, since we’ve talked about full honesty, I may have whispered  _ khighi _ into your ear.  Don’t get mad.  It’s the closest thing to “Cat” Kryptonian gets.

I’ll make sure to bring my very special picnic blanket and basket the next time I come.  I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.  Rome, Athens, Iceland, the Maldives, all perfect picnic places.  Or we could just go to that little park we can see from your balcony.  I’ll feed you grapes and read you filthy poetry under one of those cherry trees, they should be just about to bloom…

As for the rest… I know I’m not exactly what you dreamed for yourself at this time in your life, but I’m really not as young and unbreakable as you believe me to be.  I’m not looking for that perfect moment or that youthful fantasy.  And breaking you, even in a moment of true pleasure, would actually break me.  I want to take care of you.  I won’t apologize for looking out for your comfort or preventing your pain.  I just… don’t want to rush this.  

If you really believe that our time together is too tempting while you’re recovering, or that we can’t trust ourselves to stay within your physical boundaries, I’ll stay in National City until you’re a little better.  You’re improving by leaps and bounds and I know it won’t be long.  We can’t risk your healing process for a night of indulgence… as glorious as we know that would be.

Soon,  _ i:jev,  _ (my joy)

 


	59. Chapter 59

Dear Kara,

Told you I was ready.

There’s Gatorade in your fridge. I suspect you might need it.

Call you from the plane,


	60. Chapter 60

Dear Cat,   
  


Three lines.

One night of the greatest pleasure I have ever experienced and I wake up to cool sheets that still smell of you and three lines on my nightstand?

I’m holding it in my hands because it’s the only way I can be sure it wasn’t all a dream.  I am overwhelmed by my memories.  My fingertips and lips still tingle at the thought of you.

This is the part where I admit that you were right.  I was being overprotective, or hesitant or maybe it was my own insecurity using you as an excuse.  You told me you were ready and I took your choice away.  Thank Rao you are Cat Grant and you don’t let anyone make your decisions for you.

But I must say… you undersold yourself, Catherine.  Miss ‘Pillow Queen of All Media’ turns out to be the exact opposite.  

As I sit here, sipping that recommended Gatorade, I find myself analyzing the few words you left me this morning.  As adept as I thought I was at reading you through the lines of your pen (or, well, mine. Is it weird how much I like that you used my pen?)  I find myself unsure.  Your handwriting is rushed, hurried.  Maybe you lingered too long before leaving my bed, or maybe you wrote it as an afterthought.  The flourish in your signature tells me you are confident and proud.  I guess I find myself searching for proof that last night wasn’t just a means to prove me wrong.  What I really want to know is… are you happy, Cat?   Do you feel as happy as I do now?  As full and bright and electric?

You left your cane, by the way.  It’s still on my couch, where you tossed it carelessly before shoving me against my wall.  I’ll keep it safe for you, but that injured leg didn’t cause you any problems last night.  Something tells me you don’t need it anymore.

I’ll come to you as soon as I can get away again.  Until then…

“I burn, I pine, I perish.”


	61. Chapter 61

Darling,

I apologize. Buoyed by our success in bed (and against your living room wall, your kitchen counter and that dreadful sofa), and my return to something approaching full recovery, I took on just a little too much on my return to Washington. This department doesn’t run itself, and if I’d left it much longer, the President would have had to put a new nominee before the Senate.

I think you’re now very clear on my feelings about giving up positions of power.

Still, a few calls and messages isn’t enough. I told myself I’d answer your most pressing question in person, but finding the time has been a victim to the mountains of bureaucracy that plague my days, not to mention your recent spaceship-banishing exploits. I’ve never noticed quite how much you _flex_ when pushing tons of metal until now. 

To answer that question though, of course I’m happy, Kara. Giddy. Satisfied. Thrilled and eager for more. Oh God, I want so much more. It takes considerable effort not to summon you at supersonic speed each night when I leave the office for the car, but I’m not sure I can hold out much longer. There’s so much I still need to know, details missing from this exciting narrative that only you can supply.

Did you repair the plaster where I shoved you against the wall? I find myself in meetings distracted by the thought of you in short dungarees and a bandana, a pot of spackle in hand. Did your throat hurt at all from the ways I made you scream? You seemed more surprised than I did, that I drew such a sound from you. Do the sheets always wrap around your hips like that? Your bare back is something a Grecian sculptor would weep to recreate, white cotton bunched around you like a gift I haven’t finished unwrapping. 

As luck would have it, I just arranged my next trip back to National City, subject to Secret Service clearance. They weren’t entirely impressed by my impromptu trip a few days ago, so I’m playing by the rules for now. The President also sends her love, we had lunch just a little while ago and she was impressed by your recent victories. Perhaps love is overstating it, but fond wishes were definitely involved.

Hold on to that damn cane just a little longer. When I next see you I want you to snap it in half for me, before we get to anything else. You’re right, Kara. I am feeling much better. I really can’t wait to show you again just how much.

Find enclosed a stock certificate for shares in PepsiCo. With the amount of energy drinks you’ll be getting through, it seemed like a sound investment. 

Impatiently yours, 


	62. Chapter 62

Dear Cat,

  
Reminders of you are everywhere.  There are the obvious ones.  The dent in my wall, the crack in my window where you whispered all those things you wanted to do while my city, our city, bustled on outside. I’ve replaced the sheets you made me tear. That’s two new sets now, but worth every cent and trip to Bed, Bath and Beyond.  But it’s the more subtle reminders that set my heart racing.  The scent of your perfume on my throw pillows, my spare robe hanging behind the bathroom door, the faintest brush of your coral lipstick on my headboard where… well, you remember.  I’ve left those, just to remind myself it’s all real.

I fear there were some things said that night that may need… clarification.  I said something in the heat of the moment and I am worried it may scare you.  Not that I didn’t mean it, but that maybe I didn’t mean it yet… or that I did but you weren’t ready to hear it… or that you may think I throw that word around lightly.  I don’t, but… You just looked so beautiful and felt so beautiful and I so love the way you make me feel, Cat.  It just came out.  Please don’t overthink it.

I have enclosed two small tokens.  The first is a selfie of me in full home improvement mode, fixing my wall and installing the eighth new pane in that particular window.  You do not spend thirteen years on this planet  _ as me _ and not learn a thing or two about construction.  The other is a painting, well, two paintings.  One of you, in my bed, bathed in moonlight as you slept.  I couldn’t get past the slope of your shoulder, the curve of your hip, the dip of your neck.  I kissed each one as you slept, before curling myself back around you.  The image wouldn’t let go of me until I put it on canvas.  The second is the same spot in my bed, this time with only the wrinkled sheet in the sunlight, but the spectre of you remains.  Can you see yourself there?  They’re small, just hasty watercolors, but I hope to add to the collection as you spend more nights occupying that space.

I ache for you until your next visit. I’ll fill my time with work and rescues, making you proud and getting ready to see you again.

But, you know, you may summon me whenever you like.  I’ll come if I am able.  You don’t even need to wait until you leave the office.  I have plenty of perfectly good fantasies involving that very large, very sturdy wooden desk featured so prominently in your DAA website photo.  Surely your assistant is competent enough to give us a few hours of privacy.

One final thing.  I think we may need to have a discussion about boundaries.  I know you think bestowing stocks on me to make a point or a joke is cute and funny, but I am capable of simple math, Catherine.  $11,000 worth of salable stock is not a joke and you will either take it back or I swear I’ll donate it to Lois’s favorite charity.  Understood?  Good.

I’ll see you soon, but not soon enough.  And this time you better let me make you coffee.

Yours, more each day,

  



	63. Chapter 63

Darling,

Don’t overthink it, you said. Before overthinking it for five more paragraphs. Aren’t you lucky I enjoy your little contradictions? 

I’m fully aware of what you said, Kara. I’ve heard the hitch in your voice right before we end every call since you said it. Before you left yesterday morning you were similarly trying not to choke on the words you were very deliberately not saying. I could have told you this then, but you seemed content to suffer in silence.

I had no idea you had that much self-control. I’m already thinking of creative ways to test that even further. Remind me when you next drop by, I’ll share those plans in detail. 

I’ve seen enough insipid romantic comedies in my life to know what’s happening on your side. You slipped. You said it too soon. Now you have to freak out in a variety of embarrassing situations until the Ice Queen’s heart finally thaws and she relents, saying some approximation of those words back. Is that about right? Something close, if not quite the same three little words? Better yet, should I just respond with a withering ‘I know’?

I never say these things, at least not so soon, and not with this much conviction. But writing to you has always been a safe place for me. So for the first time apart from my sons, I’m almost sure that telling you exactly how I feel can’t hurt me, or make me vulnerable.

I love you, Kara Danvers.

You love me, as you can’t help telling me. I’m willing to say it to your beautiful face the very next time I see you, but in the meantime I will have to settle for this ridiculous ‘selfie’. No one should be able to pull off a bandana this side of N’Sync. Clearly my taste in women is clouded by that troublesome little ‘l word’.

I’ll be at the office until late all this week. The desk is… sturdy. I had it checked by a lovely girl from the Army Corps of Engineers as a favor. Just let my assistant know which hours to block out. 

With love,


	64. Chapter 64

My Love,

I know I said it dozens of times last night.  In your office, in the car, in your beautiful home, against your lips in your enormous bed and on our favorite balcony before I had to tear myself from your intoxicating presence at first light this morning.  But once more can’t hurt, and there’s something about seeing the words written out, in too-expensive ink, on velvety linen paper that makes my blood sing.

I love you too, Cat Grant.

I love the command you have over the people under your influence.  I love the set of your shoulders and the steel in your spine when you know you have all the answers.  I love the arch in your neck when you look up to see me approaching from above.  I love the fire in your eyes when you have me helpless under your touch… or your words.  I love the bow in your lips when I say something “utterly Kara” and the flip of your hand when you want me to think you aren’t affected.

Rao, I love the sounds you make when I touch you.  The microbeats of your wild, human heart and the catch in your breath when I manage a rare surprise.  When you’re astonished at what I can make you feel.  

I love the softness of your voice when you speak of Carter and the way your fingers flutter through your hair when you worry he’s growing up too fast.

I love your passion and your ferocity and the naked will with which you do… everything.

Falling for you was like hurtling uncontrolled across the stars.  Loving you, is like being powered by my beloved sun.  It starts afresh each day.

I love your desk too.  I wrote a love letter to it as well, but I think I’ll keep that to myself, at least for awhile.  I only hope it forgot all about that “lovely Army engineer” that first tested it, thorough and accurate as she was.  I trust you got the arrangement I sent.  Use it to hide the unfortunate scratch marks I left.  I hope that desk is as good at holding memories as it is at holding you.

I’ll see you soon.

With love,

 

P.S.  Alex suspects something.  She’s asking unusually probing questions and has the ‘I know my sister like I know my own mind’ look about her.  And J’onn can read her thoughts, so he’s giving me the side-eye too.  Our intimate little bubble may burst sooner than we expected.


	65. Chapter 65

Kara,

They know. 

Any fragile hopes you hold out that they don’t know? Release them. Let them die. I know we could have discussed this on the phone, but given the way your sister glared at me throughout an entire Space Security Briefing, I wouldn’t be surprised if the DEO are already monitoring our communication. I’ll have an underling check into it.

You don’t suppose she overhead that interesting conversation we had last night, do you? The one where you seemed to lose your words altogether at one point? It really was a shame you couldn’t tag along for the summit talks, but that was a nice way of keeping you close. Unless your sister and surrogate father heard the way you then talked me into a scream that almost brought my entire security detail running. 

It could be that.

Which begs the question: what now? Do we ignore the glares and carry on as before? I have the sinking feeling that you and Alex have that tell each other everything bond. Does it extend to J’onn? I’d rather my Director didn’t have any intimate knowledge of my life beyond budget approval and direct orders. Which one will be tasked with the shovel talk do you think? And how many weapons will they produce to deliver it? 

Leading, of course, to two further complications: my sons, and the glare of the public eye. While I’m not under the same microscope as I was in my television days, there’s a lot of scrutiny here. Someone’s going to mention that the Secretary of Alien Affairs is having a regular lunch date. Or overnight visitor in the logs. 

Carter asks about you all the time. Perhaps if you were to arrive before ten one evening, we could tell him together. Assuming you want to. Does love involve the whole person for you, Kara? I’m fairly sure it does. With me that means Carter too. I’m not talking about anything as formal as a step parent, but I don’t bring people into his life casually. He’s too important for that.

And so, I find, are you. Don’t be temporary or casual, Kara. I said I loved you and I meant it, so we don’t need to be scared of judgment or scorn. 

Adam will be a hard sell, one I have no idea how to approach, but I’m tired of indoors only, of late nights and sneaking around. You still owe me a picnic with filthy poetry. I don’t forget these things, darling. 

Let me know how you want to handle it. Given your initiative lately, particular when it comes to my office furniture, I’m quite intrigued at the thought of following your lead. Sometimes.

With love, and the requisite amount of impatience,

 


	66. Chapter 66

Dear Cat,

A few weeks ago, I would have likely thrown some kind of tantrum at the suggestion that my love doesn’t include the “whole person.”  But I know you, Cat Grant.  I know that look in your eye when your heart is telling you one thing and your head is telling you another.  The look you certainly wore when you wrote those words.  I know the meaning behind your rhetorical questions, and I’ll answer every single one, whether they require an answer or not.

Does my love include the whole person?

Catherine Grant, I lost my world and flew across the stars to follow the only family I had left.  My love includes entire planets.  It includes you and Carter and your mean old mom and a flipping goldfish colony if you tell me it’s important to you.  Nothing about us has ever been casual or temporary, going back to that 10:15 appointment that changed my entire life.

But the road is wide and goes two ways.  I’m a package deal too.  Alex is headstrong and fiercely protective.  And she doesn’t hold a candle to our mother, who will adore you and feed you and then calmly remind you that she knows best.

J’onn  _ will _ read your mind and the boys… well the boys already love you… in their own way.

We’re a messy little found family and we’re ever growing.  A snowball gathering misfits on its way down an endless mountain.  You’ll need to brace for impact.

Because you’ve decided to follow my lead, I’ve decided to take it.  Alex and I had a long talk.  She knew, of course, just as you said she would.

It wasn’t an entirely pleasant evening.  Our first knock-down-drag-out since ‘The Night That Shall Not Be Named.’  A true all-nighter.  We watched the sun rise over the city in tense silence.  She’ll come around.  You need to understand that she was privy to every frustrating moment I ever had with you, all those days fueled by tears and ice cream when I thought you hated me and I couldn’t help but want you anyway.  She witnessed every one.  I may have said some unkind things about you.  She picked me up, dusted me off and sent me back to CatCo stronger the next day.  I hope you can forgive her for being… less than enthused.

Winn tells me she bought a plane ticket to D.C. on her DEO laptop.  You can expect a visit.  Go easy on her for me, please?  I expect you’ll find you have more in common than you think.  Just… talk to each other.

I’ve made arrangements to have the entire weekend off.  I’ll knock on your door in time for dinner Friday if you’re still up for telling Carter.  I don’t expect it to be all sunshine and puppies.  (I can bring a puppy if you think it might smooth things over.)  He’s had you to himself for so long, and I know firsthand how difficult it is to share you.  But there are things you still don’t know about the time you were missing and we… well… bonded.  My place in his life, and whatever title comes with it, will depend entirely on the two of you because I’m all in, Cat.

Adam and public appearances will come.  I’m ready.  But in these things, I’ll follow your lead.  My initiative only takes me so far.

It does, however, include more of those “interesting” phone calls.  And I’ll be just presumptuous enough to pack my book of poetry this weekend… just in case you’re feeling brave.

Counting the minutes,

 


	67. Chapter 67

Dearest Kara,

If you’re reading this letter, your sister has killed me. Please check in secluded forest areas for my remains and have them properly interred for the sake of my boys. If she removed my fingerprints as threatened, remember to check for the birthmark on my inner thigh (you know the one you like to trace with your fingertip after we… well. You know the one.)

Assuming you haven’t vaporised this letter over that little joke of mine, I suppose I should tell you it went slightly better than expected. In that I am not currently deceased, although for a moment there it looked a little bleak.

Alex is everything you said she is. 

That is not an entirely positive thing. She’s hard-headed and more than a little condescending. What’s also clear is that she loves you more than her own life, and that can’t be easy with a sister like you, always flying headfirst into danger. It was there that we found some common ground: worrying. 

I can’t disclose everything we discussed, although knowing you two, it’ll be wheedled out of her before this letter reaches you. But I listened, and I argued my case, and if she has any lingering doubts about my intentions towards you, then she wasn’t paying attention. She might even know a little more than you do, at this point. I don’t know if you ever noticed, but I can get a little carried away when I’m passionate about something.

So I’ve upheld my end of the bargain. I wanted to invite you for the daylight part of the weekend, to meet Carter. Only if it’s this weekend, Adam is in town. We’ve been catching up since I recovered, and he wants to spend some time with his brother. Maybe our grand coming out will take the pressure off that for Carter? Maybe I’ll make it all worse, but either way everything will be out in the open.

What do you think? Heroic enough for that? I won’t leave the balcony door open, as you have to remember to use the doorbell and the front door like a normal person on occasions like these.

Yours always,


	68. Chapter 68

Dear Cat,

  
I am so very sorry, for all of it.

You asked if I was heroic enough for this and the answer, it seems, was no. 

I thought it would all be fine.  I thought we’d have our “grand coming out” as you so eloquently put it, and we’d get through the initial awkwardness, then have dinner.  I really did believe love would see us through.  But, that naïveté I’ve always fought so fiercely when it came to you reared its ugly head and all my heroism failed me. 

You deserved more than I gave you that night.  More protection, more defense, more backbone from the woman who has sworn to love you, than what I showed.  Adam was cruel, to you, and then to me, and instead of standing up for us both, instead of standing up for the love we share and believe in, I fled.  There is no piece of me, hero or woman, that does not regret that. 

Instead it was Carter, darling, brave, sweet Carter, who took my place as your champion.  I heard him, you see, through that door I slammed so dramatically, defend you with every breath.  I saw him through the wall, with his tiny fists balled up at his sides, telling his brother all the things I couldn’t… didn’t.  I stood on the other side of that wall and let the fear and tears win.  Then I flew away.  Like a coward. 

You’ll find my cape enclosed.  Please give it to him.  He’s earned it.  He’s my hero, and yours.  I’ve resolved not to wear it until I can prove myself worthy of it again. 

And I will prove I am worthy of you, Cat.  If it takes the rest of both our lifetimes to do it.  I will fix this, I promise.  Opal City isn’t far.  I’m ready now. 

You’ll be pleased to know that Alex read me the riot act.  You’ve made quite the impression on her and for all your joking about her killing you, she would sooner strangle me than see you hurt.  She tried, by the way, and nearly succeeded. 

You needn’t respond to this letter.  You have every right to be angry.  I don’t expect your forgiveness, nor will I ask for it.  All I ask is that you remember, occasionally, that I love you.  And maybe spare a fond memory for me, once in awhile, amongst the not-so-fond ones. 

  
I'm sorry.

With all the broken pieces of my heart,

  


  



	69. Chapter 69

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Correspondence resumes...

Kara,

I have never been a patient woman. No one who knows me would say I am good at holding my tongue. Especially when hurt or angry.

So, I want you to consider how deeply wounded I was by our last time together, that I’ve lasted two whole months without contacting you. Oh, I’ve been tempted. I’ve had to donate a ridiculous amount to rainforest preservation to make up for all the crumpled pieces of paper I haven’t sent you. My phone might as well be stuck on your last message, the blank box beneath just screaming out for my reply. Then I remember you might see the bubbles of me typing, and however angry I’ve been, I’m not cruel enough to resort to giving you false hope.

That’s the main reason I let myself work through those feelings before getting in touch. My therapist is taking all the credit, claiming this is some lesson she’s been trying to teach me for two years. I’ve taught her one of my own by asking for a referral to someone Jungian. She’s still seething, although partly because she thought I asked for someone younger.

But the point, which I’m so elegantly avoiding, is this:

I miss you. 

All I said about loving you, about wanting a life with you, about being out and proud and with you hasn’t changed, Kara. I’ve tried to make myself live without you, but with every day that passes the magnitude of who you are and how I feel about you is squashing this one mistake into insignificance. You’ve apologized. 

I accept. 

Not that it means I know where we go from here. In our time apart you’ll have noticed that I’ve thrown myself into my work. The Department for Alien Affairs is making great strides, and the President is thrilled with my progress. I’m not ready or willing to walk away from all this, which means my near future at least remains here in Washington. Is it enough for you to see me behind a podium from thousands of miles away? I suppose that’s really up to you.

I closed myself off to you, Kara, and I don’t regret the decision to protect myself and my heart. I do regret the length of time I’ve had to miss you for, and I’d like to think we can move forward from here, if you haven’t moved on already. Perhaps my ego is finally out of control, to think you’ve been pining for me. I’m sure you haven’t been short of offers.

Let me know. I’m here, and it seems I always will be when it comes to you. Can we start again?

Yours,


	70. Chapter 70

Dear Cat,  
  
You’re not the only one who’s killed a forest full of trees in a vain attempt to get the words just right.  I stayed up all night after receiving your letter, trying over and over to thank you properly for the gift you’ve given me.  Your forgiveness is more precious to me than a thousand red capes.  I still miss mine, by the way, my shoulders get chilled in the downdrafts when I don’t have it on.  I believe I may be closer to earning it back.

I’m sure by now you’ve heard that I paid Adam a visit in Opal City and said all of the things I should have said that horrible night.  I realize it probably didn’t make things any better.  In fact, it’s likely I may have made things worse, but as I figured I had lost you already, I thought things couldn’t go much further downhill than they already had.  I do hope I didn’t cause you further harm.

I’m glad you took the time to process your hurt.  I meant it when I said you did not have to respond.  I never expected you to reach back out, though my heart is full to bursting because you did.

A few months ago, I probably would have been angry at the thought that you could think, for even a moment, that I could move on from you, but I’ve given you no reason to believe that you can depend on my loyalty.  I’m so happy for the chance to prove it to you all over again.  I won’t mess it up this time.

I do miss you, Cat.  Every second of every minute of every day is full of me missing you.  Time crawls, my days are hollow and dull.  All of the things that used to bring me pleasure, food, my friends, my writing, it’s all just… shades of grey.  But now you’ve told me you still love me, in spite of all of it, and the whole world seems a bit brighter.  I love you too.  Always.  Even through our separation, my love for you burns hotter than my beloved sun.

You’ve asked about starting over.  Every bone in my body yearns to fly across the country now and take you into my arms and forget any of this ever happened, but that isn’t the way forward, I think.  No.  Instead, my love, I’m going to go back to the beginning.  To all those steps we skipped in the whirlwind trauma that drew us together.

Cat Grant, will you allow me to take you to dinner?

 


	71. Chapter 71

Dear Kara,

While I’m sorry that the latest invasion crisis postponed our plans before we could even agree to them, I’m more than a little pleased with how things turned out.

I confess, when you offered to start fresh with a dinner date, a tiny part of me scoffed. It seemed unoriginal, pedestrian even. How could a junior reporter top the experiences at Nobu, Cipriani, and a hundred others like that? I’ve never been short of offers to dine out, and dine well. 

I underestimated you again, didn’t I? Though next time you want to fly me somewhere, prior warning will let me pick out a suitable coat. A Prada blazer makes a statement, but in a tiny town north of Metropolis in November, that statement is made through chattering teeth.

A good journalist never reveals her sources, but I’m not your editor and while I’m technically the government right now, there’s no duress. I can’t conceive of how you found out about that place, my very favorite restaurant in the world. The only person I can imagine even remembering it besides me is my mother, and you asking to make me happy would be sure to make her forget it out of spite. 

I haven’t been in at least two years. Could you tell I was nervous when we walked in? That the tradition had been allowed to fade? That I was breaking some unwritten rule by bringing someone with me for the first time? Instead I got the same greeting I’ve had every time since my father first took me. Did you like that Gianni calls me Catarina? That I let him? Don’t get any ideas about nicknames. 

You wanted to start again, and darling, it was an almost perfect beginning. The question is, just how can I repay you? Next date is mine to plan, so I’d better get on that. I did have a brilliant assistant to rely upon, once upon a time, but these days I’m just making do.

I’ll call with plans for the weekend. Be ready.

With love,


	72. Chapter 72

Dearest Cat,  
  
When presented with a challenge you certainly rise to the occasion.  Every memory of that night, every smile, every word, every gentle touch and soft kiss and new sight is burned onto my heart like a brand.  I can’t stop thinking about you.

I thought I’d have that Romantic-of-the-Year award all wrapped up after Gianni’s  _ cannoli _ .  And then you… took me to space, Cat.  There are tears in my eyes even as I write this.  I’ll never know how you managed it.  Even the actual aliens I work with every day couldn’t have authorized a civilian piloting a two-man shuttle into orbit.  You really are the most powerful woman in the world.  It’s exciting and inspiring, and so damn sexy I can’t even close my eyes without seeing your strong, sure hands on those controls.

I can still see every star, burning through the galaxy, as though lighting up just for us; every crater of the moon so close I felt like I could touch them; the glowing gem of the earth, blue and white and ours.  And Rao, Cat.  You found Rao, piercing through the dark and reminding me that even if my home is gone, it will never be forgotten.  I wish we could have stayed there forever, just you and me, between my worlds.

I know you wanted me to stay over.  And god, I wanted to, Cat.  Every cell in my body remembers your touch, your kiss, your love.  But I’m trying to do this right.  We promised to start over, go slow, begin again.  I need you to know, really know, that I’ll be your champion, your hero, before I can be your lover again.  I want you, Cat Grant, from here to Krypton and back.  Think you can be patient with me just a little longer?

Write soon.  I  **_miss_ ** you.

 

_ Buona notte, Catarina. _

_ Ti amo, _

_ _

 


	73. Chapter 73

Dear Kara,

How can someone who can hear my heartbeat across the country sleep so soundly? I’ve made every possible noise, from dropping my shoes to running the coffee maker, and you haven’t stirred. You’re just lying there, almost boneless in your complete relaxation. Despite the plane that’s waiting for me, all I want to do is stay here an hour longer and trace every line and dip of your back.

And yes, before you start panicking. It was worth the wait. More than worth it. I believe I gave you all the evidence you need on that front. 

In so many ways this feels like déjà vu. Zipping across the country, stolen nights and weekends. This restart has only served to remind me why you fell head over heels for me in the first place. After all, how could you not?

Which is to say that my own feelings are running just as strong. Any reservations I had, any lingering hurt over Adam and that whole fiasco, none of that compares to the force of how I feel about you. Is loving a Kryptonian supercharged by the yellow sun? I’m beginning to suspect it might be. 

That said, we’re going to have to talk, darling. About the future, about being happy, about the things we both want. We’re both so busy, both have ties to different coasts that seem immovable. If I believed that couldn’t be overcome, well, I’d still be in Metropolis and CatCo would probably be a pet food supplier now. God knows what your official branding would be like. You’d probably have called yourself Kindwoman or something equally awful.

So start thinking big. Outside the box, inside it. Throw the box away, or incinerate it if we must. It’s time to make a plan. 

It’s time to make a life.

Let me know what you think,

Yours, indefinitely,


	74. Chapter 74

My Love,  
  
Kindwoman?  I mean, despite your opinion of my branding abilities, I do have something approaching taste, or aesthetic or, at the very least a sense of drama.  Surely Stargirl or Powergirl would have suited.  But I will admit, you do have a knack for naming things.  I still call Barry _‘The Blur’_ at every given opportunity, so we’ll stick with Supergirl for now.

I digress, of course.  I was crestfallen to find I’d slept through your departure.  I’d hoped for those few final intimacies I’ve come to love so.  Pinning you to the sheets to prevent you from leaving the warmth of my bed, watching the soap bubbles run down the curve of your spine, the mingling scents of your shampoo and lotion and perfume. Dancing around each other in the kitchen, pouring coffee and toasting bread and rinsing dishes.  Those final, sweet, rushed kisses in the doorway when neither of us are ready to let go.  After I’d read your note and cried my disappointment out my bay window, I called in sick to both of my jobs, crawled back into the bed which still smelled like you, and focused on thinking outside the box.

Enclosed, you’ll find the fruits of my labor.  What I found, in thinking outside the box, was ultimately going to put me in a smaller one, and I couldn’t be more happy.  Goodness, Cat, cost of living in Washington is a bit outrageous.  If I can’t get a job at the Post, maybe the rent control lobby is looking for someone.  But I’ve narrowed it down to four postage-stamp sized, box-shaped studios in Georgetown and Arlington that I think will suit.  If I can make my loft in NC into a home fit for a Cat Grant overnight, surely I can give the top floor of a DC brownstone the same treatment.

If you can manage to free up an afternoon next weekend, I thought we could check them out together and you can help me decide.

I’m not being subtle here.  I don’t need to write the words.  This took very little thought, only a heartfelt, teary conversation with Alex, a logistics discussion with J’onn and the promise of a monthly game night with the boys.  I’ll miss them, but at my speed they’ll never be far, and it’s time to fly on my own.  My heart belongs elsewhere.  They all understand and send their love. 

I realize I may have skipped a couple of steps.  You suggested a talk and I know this went far beyond that, but I know what I want, Cat.  Change is in the air, and for once in my life, I’m not afraid of it.

I’ll be in DC to look at apartments on Friday, even if you’re unable to get away.

Hug Carter for me.  He’s a part of all of this too, but we’ll get to that, I’m sure.

See you soon.  I love you.


	75. Chapter 75

Dear Kara,

I fear, for once, I might be losing my nerve. Is that ridiculous? Someone this accomplished, this certain of success, to be apprehensive of a simple question?

You flew here straight from a messy fight, so I’ve banished you to the bath, strictly at human speed. Perhaps when I’m done with this I’ll come in there to wash your back. 

Today’s the day, you see. You’re all set with a map, and a bunch of apartment listings, and a plan. You always were the most organized. The truth is that before I let you fill a Thermos and try to insist we don’t need the car (the Secret Service insist more forcefully than you, darling), I should ask the question that’s right here on the tip of my tongue.

The trouble is, that by asking I fear I’ll take some of your power away, remove choices that you wanted to make for yourself. Whatever we do going forward, it has to be mutual, a partnership of equals. If for no other reason than it takes someone peerless for me to consider them my peer. (Yes, Meryl got that joke first, but she owes me.)

So I’ll ask properly when you find this note, tucked into the last page of your binder. Come live with me. Let’s live together. You’re already making such a commitment by leaving National City to come here, let me meet you halfway by sharing my home with you. You can keep your own room, hell, your own floor given these ridiculous townhouses, and always have space when you need it. It doesn’t even need to be this house, if you don’t like it. We can start from scratch, together. Both our names on the deeds. 

But I’ve run out of excuses not to have you in my bed each night, not to have your face be the first thing I see on waking. Well, occasionally it’s your bare… anyway, you do have some creative sleeping positions.

Apart doesn’t work, we’ve worked out that much. I know I might not be the surest bet Kara, but I am sure about you, about us. I want you to be my last great romance, right to the last. 

So what do you say? Time for me to get some keys cut? 

With love,


	76. Chapter 76

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday Fictorium!

Morning Cat,

I’m sorry for not being here when you woke up, but I knew you’d find this immediately, the coffeemaker being your first stop each morning.  I’ve gone out for pastry and ‘acceptable’ coffee.  In the meantime, you’ll have to do with this terrible shade-grown French-pressed medium roast that you keep laying around.  I’ll be back soon with your regular neighborhood latte in hand.

I did what you asked.  I was ready to give you an answer last night, but you pressed my favorite finger against my lips and said, “Sleep on it, please.”  So I did.  Granted, it was a few (very pleasant) hours before we actually slept, but when I woke up this morning to the vision of your bare curves outlined in sunlight, my answer remained exactly the same.

Yes, Cat.  Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.

Your place, our place, Melrose place... Cat I would live on the  _ moon _ with you if you asked me to. I wanted to suggest it.  I dreamed up a dozen ways to bring it up.  I just didn’t want to assume... or crowd you.  You like your space, and Carter’s space and I respect that space, always.  But how can a girl say no to an offer like that?  My home is wherever you are.  You aren’t taking my power or my independence or my agency by telling me you want me close to you.  You’re telling me you want to be a family and I can hardly breathe for happiness.

_ But _ … I did plan this whole day, complete with gourmet lunch and an afternoon martini break, so, indulge me for a few hours, okay?  Let’s at least go look at the Georgetown place, if only to make out in that sunroom for a few minutes?  Who knows, you may find a new calling in real estate investment.

Say the word and I’ll start moving all of my delightfully eclectic DIY furnishings from my hipster paradise into your perfectly curated luxury townhome.  I hope you like pastel ceramic and decoupage.  

Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you with regular morning bagels and magnificent sex.

All my love.

Your new roomie,

 


	77. Chapter 77

Dear Roomie,

I do wish the novelty of calling you that would wear off. It’s been months. Almost four of them now, and I’m yet to find a single concrete reason to banish you. Yes, it took some time to adjust to your taste in loungewear, mostly because I thought that’s what you’d been wearing to the office for two years. Imagine my surprise to discover there was yet another layer of ‘casual’ still to come.

I’m deflecting, which you’ve no doubt already realized. I’d say it’s the home court advantage, but nobody else who’s ever lived under the same roof as me, from my father, through college roommates, right down to my son, has ever paid attention to me the way that you have. 

For the first time ‘living together’ feels like the world has expanded, rather than my own kingdom being invaded. I may just be drunk on regular, amazing sex and something as quaint as making time to watch a movie together in the den, but I do know that I want more of it. Much more. 

I promised you when I asked you to move in with me that I would never take a decision away from you, or put pressure on that huge heart and boundless good nature of yours. You see, Kara darling, there’s something else I want to ask you, but I don’t want you to decide in the drama of the moment. This time, this one time in my life, I want both parties to be completely sure.

I’ve never asked anyone to marry me before. I know that statistics alone suggest I should have had a turn by now, but it’s the one area of my life that I’ve occasionally ducked responsibility for. I want that to change. You make me want to change that. 

So consider this my pre-proposal. You should be picking this up as you swoop through the dining room window, and hopefully the landing will be kinder to the crystal in the cabinets this time. 

I want this forever, Kara. 

The opinion of others has never mattered to me, but lately the simple act of holding your hand makes me want to announce to the world that you’re all mine, just as I am yours. It took the best part of five decades, but it seems there was a romantic lurking in here all along. She was just waiting for you. 

So if this question is one you want to be asked, officially, I’ll be waiting on the roof terrace like so many other evenings. We’ve always looked best against a dramatic vista, and while this is no fortieth floor, the view is still quite something. 

If the time is wrong, or you don’t want to have to tell me ‘no’, then I promise I’ll understand. I might pout, at least until it causes a wrinkle, but it won’t affect this beautiful life we’ve carved out for ourselves.

I know which answer I’m hoping for, but the decision now is entirely and freely yours. 

Until later, love, 


	78. Chapter 78

Dear Cat,  
  
If I know you, and I do, you found this on the bar as you were finally pouring your favorite single malt.  You’ve no doubt spent the evening making sure Carter is all packed up and helping him try on his tux one final time just to make sure he can get the cufflinks on himself.  He looks so handsome in it. I’m sure he’s tucked up in his room with some video game you don’t approve of.  
  
This is the home stretch, darling.  We’ve tackled the engagement, the planning, and now the rehearsal dinner.  It's all over but the crying, they say, although there’s been plenty of that today, I’m sure.  I don’t know. I wrote this this morning while you were in the shower. I was already missing you.  
  
I’ll just remind you, as we both fall asleep under the same moon, but not in the same bed, that this was your idea.  I never took you for much of a traditionalist, but I seem to have awoken a lurking romantic in you. (Your words, not mine.) And you have insisted, quite persuasively, that the brides should not see each other before the wedding.  So, I’m probably falling asleep in a hotel room right now while I should be off taking shots of Alderaan Rum with Alex and Vasquez, and missing you so much I can hardly breathe. On Krypton, tradition dictated that couples stay up all night talking out their plans for marriage and family and watch Rao rise over the Jewel Mountains.  I’ll make sure we fulfill that particular tradition in a few days when we can see the Alps from the balcony of our chalet.   
  
We’ve shared sunrises and sunsets and plans and gifts and time and space.  I figured one night away from you before I give you my entire self would be the least I could do.  But as I smell your shampoo from the open bathroom door and imagine tomorrow in a hundred different ways, my heart burns with desire to never be apart again.  I’m pouring that burning onto this page, with a pen you gave me… has it really been over a year ago now? I’m willing you to feel my longing across this city we both love.  Feel my arms around you and my breath against your neck, my hands on your hips, our feet hopelessly tangled.  
  
Tomorrow, all those vows I’ve already made to you in this burning heart of mine will be made out loud for the world to hear, just know that I’ll whisper them into your ear each night as we fall asleep if I ever give you reason to doubt their veracity.  But there’s one thing I won’t be able to tell you out loud tomorrow, so I wanted to be sure to tell you here, on this page, where so many of our secret truths have been told. When we join hands and become wives, you will become a member of my house, an El, truly and officially, and forever.  A tiny piece of you will become Kryptonian… alien… mine. Carter too. What’s ours becomes Krypton’s, and Krypton becomes yours too.  
  
You already possess every quality that the House of El holds dear: strength, bravery, justice, hope, truth, and that’s just scratching the surface.  You already are an El in everything save name, and tomorrow, I hope to bestow her name upon you as well, if you accept. The choice is yours, of course, and the answer will change nothing for me, you have my word.  My love for you goes far beyond names we have or keep. But Catherine El-Grant does have a certain ring to it, even if it never turns up on an official document.  
  
Sleep well and deep, my love.  Dream of me and our life to come.  When I see you tomorrow, your beauty will doubtless render me speechless.  I need only find voice enough to say “I Do.”  
  
El Mayarah Zrhemin,


	79. Chapter 79

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the final letter. Cat and Kara both have something to say to their family and friends.

Dearest friends, family and frenemies*,

Cat and I would just like to take a few minutes to sincerely thank you for everything you’ve done for us the past few years. No relationship exists in a vacuum (believe me, I’ve lived in one) and since letting ours breathe it has highlighted how fortunate we are to have the love and support of each of you every step of the way. From our rocky beginnings, to Cat’s injuries and ultimately my leaving National City, I’ve always had the light and love of those around me to push me to new heights and to remind myself that the love of this woman next to me is a gift given to me by Rao himself. And even when things looked darkest, and I didn’t think I’d ever find my way fully into her heart, it was you who were there to be my sun, my beacon to show me the path. And I like to think you guided her to me in a few small ways too. 

You know, destiny is a funny thing. I think that – 

_Destiny, Kara? You can consider that our new d-word, because talking about destiny takes away too much from our own good taste and excellent decision-making. That’s right, you were all our witnesses. I saw what I wanted, and I went for it, in signature Cat Grant style._

_Okay, so maybe the drama along the way helped with perspective. That much I will concede. Let destiny, Rao, Martha Stewart, and any other omnipotent forces note though, that Kara and I are choosing a life together: a marriage, our son, and this suddenly very expanded family that I find myself a part of. Thank you all, for all that you’ve done. Especially for sharing our special day._

_Anyway, family or not, you have the rest of our thoroughly_ deshabillé _honeymoon to collect any belongings you may have left behind at our home. Anything remaining when we return will be donated to charity. Or burned._

_Carter darling, we both miss you terribly. I hope that Alex and J’onn aren’t teaching you advanced firearms yet, though by the time you see this you’ll be heading to your father’s. Please work out any new DEO ninja skills on him to get it out of your system. This also applies to any weird alien science you’ve been studying there._

What Cat is trying to say is thank you for taking Carter while we’re away! In spite of Cat’s demands, she trusts you both implicitly. Vasquez is on standby if you need her. No all-night poker tournaments, Susan! We’re grateful for you both. And frankly, I think Carter’s thankful to get away from us for awhile. We may have been a bit unbearable in the weeks leading up to the wedding. 

_Perfection makes demands of all of us, and Carter understands that. What he’ll be more pleased to hear is that we have another week of sun, sea, and … Scrabble all to ourselves before he has to be in our company again. I don’t want to hear another ‘gross, Mom!’ when we’re all together again._

We love you all! We’ll bring you back tacky beach mementos! Check the envelope for the first official wedding snap, James was kind enough to FedEx it to us because he knows I couldn’t wait!

All our love, hugs and thanks, and a very pointed glare*

and 

*Lois, these comments were added for you. I’m sorry, but Cat wouldn’t let me seal the envelope and send unless I included them. But I saw you both drunk on champagne and hugging at the reception so you don’t fool me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @nocorkage fee for editing advice and @xxtorchxx for this wonderful manip to close the Letters fic.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr home:
> 
> [Letters to Cat](http://letters-to-cat.tumblr.com).
> 
> [Letters to Kara](http://letters-to-kara.tumblr.com).


End file.
